Toying with Matches
by Wildly Obsessed
Summary: TristanOC. Denial only goes so far. The two of them must eventually come to terms with their past respective demons. [AU S3]
1. Chapter 1

**-Playing With Fire-**

**Summary:** It's Tristan's senior year, he's back from military school. A new girl, who's rejection of Tristan reaches almost surprising heights, comes to Chilton the same year as his return. Her stony rejection and distancing from every one who comes close chases away most of the Chiltonites, excluding the stubbornly proud Dugrey. One of them dwells in denial and a false front, while the other keeps in the shadows, refusing to let the problems be seen. The two of them must eventually come to terms with their past respective demons… surprising each other and themselves in the process.

**Disclaimer:** Tristan Dugrey and any other character except for Tara Elden are the property and creation of the WB network. No part of Gilmore Girls is mine. Too bad…owning Tristan would be really…dare I say, enjoyable… Chad Michael Murray is so hot, lolol

**A/n:** The rating may well go up in future chapters. In fact, it most likely will.

Tristan ran his hand through his dirty blond hair and smiled secretively at the new girl sitting on the other side of the lovely garden behind the school. He had been watching her for a few days now and he definitely liked what he saw. Her name was Tara Elden and she was a new arrival to Chilton Prep. With her sleek black hair and porcelain skin, she caught the eye of more than just Tristan. She had a shy demeanor and was obviously intelligent, though she didn't appear to be overtly sugary. At least three guys had already asked her out only to be shot down. It was quite amusing, actually. Tristan wasn't apprehensive. He wasn't one of those guys. He was Tristan Dugrey, after all. The classic playboy who hadn't known rejection. Except for Gilmore, that is, but he was over her.

The time for silent sizing-up was over. Tristan had seen and liked and now it was time to go in for the kill. "Hi." He flashed his charming smile.

She glanced up. "I was wondering when you'd finally make your way over. Tired of staring from afar, I trust?" So she had noticed his gaze.

Unruffled, Tristan grinned, "Just wanted to get a closer view."

"Really." She looked down again, uninterested.

"So, I know you're new here and I thought it might be interesting to maybe show you around." He said, sitting down next to her.

"That's nice." She answered mildly, turning a page in her book. "I'm sure you wouldn't believe it, but I occasionally have thoughts too."

"So, how about it?" Tristan pressed, ignoring the sarcasm.

"I can find my way around." Tara said shortly.

"Chilton's pretty big," Tristan wheedled.

"Thanks but I'm not really interested in getting acquainted with the janitor's closets." Tara met his gaze and smoothly stood up.

Was he that transparent? "Do you know anyone yet?" Tristan questioned, again choosing to ignore her statement.

She shrugged and picked up her backpack.

"Come on. I'm sure a new friend can't hurt," Tristan flashed another smile.

"I'm sure you've been watching how I reacted to the last few boys who tried to get in my pants. I can make _friends_ on my own." Tara responded.

"Whoa, someone's thinking ahead," Tristan chuckled, "I just wanted to give you a tour of the school."

"Funny. It's only my first week here and I already now that you're the resident playboy." Tara told him. "What does that tell you?"

"Hmmm. Word gets around." Tristan laughed again. "Fine, no tour. What's your name?"

"You know this already," she gave him a pointed look. "Tara Elden."

"Well, hello Tara Elden and welcome to Chilton. I'm Tristan Dugrey. Hopefully, you'll like our humble school." Tristan smiled.

"If it wasn't filled predominantly with stuck-up rich boys, maybe it wouldn't be so bad," Tara was stubbornly refusing to give in, even just a little bit.

"You're hostile," he observed.

"No, really?" she raised her eyebrows. "Really, why don't you skip off and find some little lamb to manipulate? This place seems to be swarming with bimbos."

"You try to be friendly," Tristan shook his head.

"Stop trying to bull shit me and maybe I'd take the attempt more openly," she retorted.

"You don't play very well with others, do you?" Tristan sighed with a smirk.

"I'm afraid your Prince Charming looks may work on some girls but, in danger of deflating your world-sized ego, your appearance is failing to impress me. Unless you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly swooning." Oh so nice. She adjusted her book and with another look of indifference, she started walking away.

Tristan stared after her with a grin. Feisty that one. She seemed even less interested than Rory did. Interesting… The hard-to-get ones were always entertaining. When he had most girls clinging to his feet, practically begging to be used, a little challenge now and then didn't fail to intrigue him. He wondered silently how long this one would last.

Tristan jogged up to Tara in the hallway at Chilton and ran a hand through her hair. "Hey."

"Did you get nothing out of our last encounter?" Tara moved out of his reach.

"Not feeling any friendlier, I'm sensing," Tristan said.

"You're good at this." She replied sarcastically. "I'm not interested, Dugrey."

"I'm offering the olive branch of friendship here-" Tristan grinned.

"I'm not interested, Dugrey." Tara repeated.

"Why are you being so hostile to me?" Tristan asked.

"Maybe I'm just a hostile person. I'm sure you don't like hostile people. So why don't you run along?" Tara responded, her jaw set.

"I don't give up that easily," he informed her.

"I'm going to ignore you now, so really, feel free to give up any time you want," she gave a false smile, grabbing her Discman and placing the headphones over her ears. She waved at him and strode off.

During class, their English teacher announced a new project in which partner work would be mandatory. Feeling annoyed with the bustle of the students choosing their own partners, she took the liberty of assigning the partners for them. Alphabetical order. Tristan grinned. In this particular AP English class that meant only one thing.

"Tristan Dugrey and Tara Elden." Ms. Wyrnell called out dryly. Tristan smirked and turned to Tara, who sat in the desk diagonal from him.

"Going to ignore me for the entire three weeks it'll take to do this project?" he questioned. She was looking at Wyrnell and Tristan with disbelief and rolled her eyes at him, stubbornly putting the headphones over her ears once more.


	2. Chapter 2

Tristan caught up with Tara after class, grinning like there was no tomorrow. She saw him heading her way and had to suppress another eye roll.

"Now, now Tara, we'll be working together pretty closely, don't you think you should at least attempt civility?" Tristan laughed, spotting the less-than-thrilled expression on her face.

"Only for the sole reason that I won't let some pretty boy ruin my grade," Tara answered defiantly. "This is worth a quarter of our term mark and I'm not going to bomb it."

"Ah. So you care about your grades. Lucky for me." Tristan nodded.

"Please, please, tell me you are not one of those people who don't have much else behind their pretty faces?" Tara sighed.

"Are you asking if I'm stupid?" Tristan gasped in surprise. "You think I'm dumb?"

"No- I mean, I don't think you're," stammered Tara. "Tristan, my grades mean a lot to me and I just want to know if you'll help me out with this project or if it's just an excuse to force your company on me."

"Do I look stupid?" Tristan crossed his arms. "Or do you think that just because I have looks, I can't have brains, too?"

"Don't get so offended," she told him. "I didn't mean to insult you. All I'm saying is, if you bring down the first major project we have to do in senior year, I will make it a personal mission to kick your ass."

"Oh, threatening me now, are we?" Tristan raised his eyebrow.

"Stop playing around. Will you help me work on this project or not?" a hint of anxiety was in her voice which brought Tristan to finally give her an answer.

"Don't worry, I'm not brain dead, I'm not going to mess up your precious GPA." Tristan told her.

"I didn't think you were brain dead, you go to Chilton so you must have some intelligence. Well, either that or your parents are heinously rich." Tara said.

"That's about as close to a compliment as I'm ever going to get from you, isn't it?" Tristan shook his head. "Aw well, I think the next three weeks will be fun, partner. I'm sure you'll view me differently by the end of it."

"Cocky though you may be, I highly doubt that." Tara rolled her eyes. "Just because we have to work together does not mean we're in any way friends, nor does it mean that I have to enjoy it."

"You can act like you're being dragged into this kicking and screaming all you want but you know you're glad you're with me. Hey, if you hated me that much, you would've asked for a partner change." Tristan pointed out.

"I did." She replied with a snort. Not the answer Tristan was expecting. "I asked and she declined, saying that seeing as though I was new and all, getting partnered with the social butterfly in the school might do me good."

"You're really that repulsed?" Tristan frowned. "You've known me all of five minutes and you're already set that you despise me. That's not exactly fair."

"Don't talk to me about fair." Tara snapped. "It's people like you who stopped me from getting into Chilton until now. I was on the waiting list for two years because the rich kids with contacts get priority. Anyways, no matter what Ms. Wyrnell seems to be expecting, she's delusional. As if I'm going to spend a single moment with you outside of school."

"Right. You're new. You're not aware of Ms. Wyrnell's teaching style, are you? For any given partner or group project, she'll give you one class per week until it's due to talk it over with your partner and to make plans and get started but that's it. The rest you've got to do on your own time. She likes to encourage social interaction between classmates. So unless you really believe we'll be able to cram a three week project into three hours, you'll have to spend more than a moment with me outside of Chilton." Tristan informed her.

"I have to get to class." Tara said.

"All right, partner, but try to be more pleasant next time we see each other. Three weeks is a long time." Tristan answered smugly as she strode off.

Rory happened to be walking behind the pair and once Tara started walking off, she made her presence known. "Tristan, don't make her first month here hard."

Tristan turned around and took in a breath. Rory Gilmore. With her long chestnut hair and bright innocent eyes, she was quite pretty. She was also highly intelligent, confident, and a little on the shy side. The only other girl who seemed to have zero interest in him. Though she was a nice kisser…

"I wasn't planning to." He said.

"Really, if she's not interested stop irritating her about it." Rory told him.

"Having flashbacks of your own first year at Chilton?" Tristan grinned. "Or maybe you're a little jealous that I've set my sights on someone else?"

"Drop it, Tristan, honestly. As if I haven't seen you grope every female in this school. I'm with Dean and I've never been happier." Rory rolled her eyes.

"Still with bag boy?" he chuckled. "It's all good, Mary. Tara over there is even less keen then you were but I'm sure that'll change."

Rory gave him a look and shook her head, walking off to class as well. Tristan watched her go with a wistful look on his fine face. She was one of the only girls he truly cared for. Two brush-offs in one day... Tristan sighed and shook his head. He'd wasted so much time thinking about Rory Gilmore already... He would not waste another minute on her. She had never really cared about him; it was Rory who gave Tristan his first experience as being the rebound guy. Tristan had been pained when Rory chose Dean over him, and a part of him liked to pretend that she was delusional and questioned why the hell she would such a thing. Inside, though, he knew why she chose Dean. Dean was practical and loyal, stable and sweet. The model boyfriend. On the boring side, for sure, but perfect for Gilmore. Tristan was too flirty, too unpredictable, too out going. As time passed, Tristan had come to terms and actually embraced her decision. He wouldn't have been happy bound to Rory anyways. Added to that was the grudge Tristan was harbouring over the fact that he had just came back from military school after being gone for half of eleventh grade and aside from a short, awkward greeting on the first day of senior year, Rory hadn't spoken to him until now. On their first day back, Rory had seemed somewhat pleased to see him back and she had asked how he was doing, but Tristan would have been shocked if she hadn't. She was a nice person who was concerned for everyone. After seeing him together in one piece, she went back to ignoring him and this time around, Tristan let her. She thought that he was the same as he always was, everyone did. As if he could return from a few months in military school and come back unchanged. It was gruelling; his father had wanted to stamp out whatever rebellious streak Tristan had going on. In that respect, military school didn't change him, Tristan's rebellious side was too much a part of his character. He was still cocky and smooth but he was definitely not as reckless. Those stupid pranks he had pulled were a thing of the definite past. His father had made it very clear that if he did anything like that again, it'd be a full year at military school. It was something that quite frankly unsettled Tristan. He would not go back there, he couldn't.

Of course, no one knew what really happened at military school. No one noticed a change in Tristan Dugrey upon his reinstatement at Chilton. Tristan wouldn't allow it. He had a perfectly constructed reputation that he would never tarnish. He missed the carefree days of freshman year, the days where his aloofness wasn't an act. Now, though it was still there, a certain aspect of it was a mask. He wasn't as happy as he made himself out to be and he doubted he ever would be. A part of him was angry with his classmates for not seeing this. That was one of the reasons why the new girl, Tara, intrigued him. She hadn't known Tristan in his pre-military school days. She among his peers couldn't be blamed for not seeing a change in him, as she had nothing to compare it to. If only she would let him get to know her… All in good time, though. Three weeks together was a nice chunk of time and Tristan was confident that even if she still didn't like him by the end of it, they would at least know more about each other.

"Mr. Dugrey, you're late for class." A stern voice told him. Tristan shook away his brooding thoughts and flashed a smile before joining his classmates.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for the reviews :) And actually, Kimberly, I was planning to make it darker. It's not going to be straight fluff, there are secrets and such to the characters. 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Again, Gilmore Girls, not created by me, Tristan, Rory, Chilton, all are the WB's invention

The next day, during English class, Ms Wyrnell gave them the period to get a start on the project. Tristan walked over and pushed a desk next to Tara's and sat down. Inside, he faltered for just a second upon seeing the look on her face. It didn't look like she was ready to talk to him for a full hour, much less for nearly a month.

"Wow, don't over do the enthusiasm now." Tristan said drolly. "Could you at least _try_ not to look as if you're being tortured?"

"Let's get working." Tara ignored his remark and barely looked at him. At the end of class, the two hadn't made much leeway as Tristan was constantly trying to make casual conversation instead of working.

"You know what? How about we just spilt up the work and at the end of two weeks just combine everything we've gotten done?" Tara suggested in frustration.

"No, that will not do!" Ms. Wyrnell exclaimed, looking up from her desk. "The point of this assignment is to incorporate a joint alliance. So work together, or fail!"

"I tried, my partner's just being difficult and refuses to work," Tara muttered under her breath, shooting Tristan a look. Ms Wyrnell turned to face him with an unpleased stare.

"That isn't true." He smiled. "All I was trying to do was get to know my partner a bit before working, to establish a comfortable setting and to get us off on friendly terms. I figured this partnership project would flow much smoother if we trusted and knew each other a bit, instead of being strangers."

"That's a load-" Tara exclaimed.

"No, that sounds quite reasonable, Mr Dugrey. I have to commend you for thinking ahead. It's wonderful that you are taking an interest in your partner on a level beyond simply academics." Ms Wyrnell all but beamed. Tara looked as if she was going to protest but the teacher continued, "This is a highly critical part of this project. Getting to know each other is essential. Yes, I believe you two should meet up after school on occasion and just get to know each other before embarking on this assignment. In fact, I think I'll make it a part of your grade, seeing as though Ms. Elden seems to be so reluctant."

Tara blinked in amazement. "What exactly do you mean by get together, Ms Wyrnell?"

"Oh, you know, spend some time with Mr Dugrey on the weekend, perhaps. Mr. Dugrey, would you mind introducing her to a few of your friends? She is new, after all, and I think it would be highly beneficial." Answered Ms Wyrnell thoughtfully. "Perhaps she could tag along at some of your social functions."

"Of course, it would be my pleasure." Tristan flashed another winning smile.

"Excellent." She smiled back. "You see, Ms Elden, he's kind enough to let you into his life and world and he seems quite all right with letting you share in his circle. Please don't make this difficult for him. I don't want Tristan to tell me that you're not cooperating."

Tara nodded and mumbled, "Of course." The two left the classroom and Tristan had to fight to keep a straight face until Ms Wyrnell was out of view. Once they were out of her hearing, Tristan burst out laughing. Tara's face was filled with anger.

"I can't believe you!" she hissed.

"Well Tara, I'm sure we'll have a great time together." He grinned. She just glared at him silently before she fumingly headed towards her next class.

When the lunch bell rang, Tristan spotted Tara in the halls and strode up to her. "Hey," he smiled. "So, I was thinking, and I think that now would be the perfect moment to introduce you to my friends. Want to eat lunch with me?"

"I'd rather eat my paper bag." Tara replied.

"Come on now, I happen to know that you haven't exactly been making new friends at lunch hour. You and Gilmore are just sitting there alone, both of you listening to music and reading." Tristan raised his eyebrows. "You know, it's really uncanny how similar you two appear to be until you actually open your mouth."

"What do you mean by that?" Tara stuck out her jaw. "Rory's really nice!"

"I know." Tristan agreed.

"Are you saying I'm bitchy, then?" she crossed her arms.

"I'm just saying you two are identical as well as polar opposites. From what I can see, you have similar interests but very different personalities." Tristan shrugged.

"You're saying I'm bitchy," Tara repeated.

"You're less of, a, well, Rory's a bit less hostile," Tristan said.

"She doesn't seem to like you all that much either, from what I've heard." Tara said. "I know that she wasn't exactly receptive to your advances on her in your freshman year. Yes, word travels fast. Even to me, the bitchy loner."

"Hey-" Tristan held up his hands. "I didn't call you that. And, okay, you're right, me and Rory had a thing a few years back."

"In other words, you behaved like a horny five-year-old and she shot you down." Tara answered. "Do you have a thing for girls who don't want to go out with you?"

"In this entire school, I can confidently say that Rory and you are the only two girls who haven't gone out with me and don't want to." Tristan smirked.

"And you couldn't have her so now you've settled on me," she stated.

"No! That's totally not it. I couldn't have her, realized we weren't meant for each other anyways, moved on with my life, and then I met you." Tristan amended.

"That's great, I'm going to go over and be my usual bitchy loner-ish self and listen to music and read." Tara said, moving past him.

"Hey, remember what Ms. Wyrnell said. Don't be difficult now." Tristan reminded her. "I'd hate for you to lose marks."

"Argh! I hate you, I hope you're aware of that," Tara exclaimed. Tristan laughed as Tara very reluctantly entered the cafeteria, looking as if she was very close to breaking something.

"I normally sit over there." He informed her, pointing the table in the centre of the cafeteria.

"I'm aware." She sighed. "Every school's got a popular table. And there it is." Tara shuddered. "Are you actually going to con me into sitting with those shallow back-stabbing would-be models?"

"Hey, hey, you're being a touch prejudiced here, not all popular people are like that!" Tristan corrected her.

"The ones here are." She answered. "I've seen the way they act."

"You've been here a week." He said.

"Whatever. But it's not my fault if all your friends hate you for forcing me to sit with them." She said.

"I'm not forcing you to do anything, and I'm sure they'll be charmed by your sparkling personality just as much as I am." Tristan grinned. She rolled her eyes and after getting hold of her food tray, she advanced to his table. Ignoring the bemused expressions of the other inhabitants of the table, Tara plopped down and started eating.

"What do you think you're doing?" A preppy-sounding girl demanded. Tara vaguely recognized her from one of her classes. …Lacey?

"Hmmm. I'm in the cafeteria, with a plate full of food, and my fork is partway to my mouth. Perhaps you're not familiar with this act, and from the looks of you, I wouldn't be surprised, but it's called eating." Tara retorted. She was really not making an attempt to be liked…

A second passed and then the girl realized what Tara was insinuating and glared, "God, why don't you go lurk somewhere else, you're not welcome here."

"I can sit wherever I want, though I would be more than happy to lurk elsewhere if I had any choice. I don't want to be here anymore than you want me here!" replied Tara.

"Don't act as if this is some huge favour you're granting us, why don't you crawl into a cave or something, I mean bears are like the only things who can stand to be around you." Girl #2 snarled.

"Burn." Tara mocked offence. "And try telling that to your other half." Tara indicated the girl's boy toy that was sitting beside girl #2, his arm snaked around her waist. "He wasted no time in trying to "get with" me. It must've been a record, it only took my being here for an hour before he pounced." Girl 2 looked about ready to attack.

"Okay, getting heavy now-" The guy they had been discussing interjected with a flush.

"Terry would never-" Girl 2 pouted. "Go away! Maybe you haven't heard, but this is an invitation-only table."

Tristan was finally making his way over; he had been busily flirting with the young lunch lady.

"News flash, I got an invitation." Tara said.

"From who? Your imaginary fairy godmother?"

"From your king and leader, the horn master himself and the guy who you've been checking out for the past few minutes." Tara answered oh-so-sweetly, jabbing a finger backwards to indicate Tristan.

"Like Tristan would ever-" they snorted.

"Actually, yeah guys, I invited her over," Tristan said.

"Invited, blackmailed, same thing, right?" Tara muttered, digging into her lunch.

"What!" a brunette girl blurted.

"Yeah, I'd like you all to meet Tara, she's new." Tristan smiled. "Tara, this is Leslie (eh, close enough…), Terry, Madeline, Chris, and Mark." It was clear from the expressions on the guys' faces that they had jumped to the conclusion that Tara was Tristan's new fling.

"Why her?" Madeline spat.

"Hmmm. You never invited your other girlfriends to sit with you," Chris smirked.

Tara visibly stiffened. "Girlfriend? In his dreams." She snorted. "I'm doing a project with him and he's doing everything in his power to make this experience as hellish as possible."

"Oh," Madeline said, voice filled with dawning comprehension. "I see. You've found yourself a second Rory. Wish this one was a bit nicer."

"I'm sitting right here, so stop talking as if I'm not," Tara snapped.

"She's not a second Rory," Tristan said, sounding mildly annoyed.

"Can't believe she agreed to go out with you," Mark grinned, looking at her, "You looked like you might just have punched me when I asked you."

"I didn't agree to go out with him!" Tara groaned. She allowed a small smile to slip through as she added, "But you're right. I probably would have hit you if you had attempted to get your hand up my shirt like…what's-his-name over there."

"Somehow, I don't doubt that," Tristan laughed. The next few minutes consisted of Tara consuming her lunch as quickly as she possibly could while still maintaining decency. The moment she finished she turned to Tristan.

"All right, I had lunch with you, and now I'm done so let's never do this again," she muttered. "Not that this wasn't a pleasure, everyone." Tara briefly glanced at the other members of the table.

Tristan caught hold of her elbow as she started to stand up. "Not so fast, Tara. You barely got to know everyone-"

"Oh yes, I'm sure we'd all love to delve even further into her twisted, bitchy psyche." Leslie remarked.

"Seriously, Tris, don't force yourself on her," Mark smirked. "I didn't think you were sinking that low."

"Hey, she can leave anytime," Tristan grinned.

"At the expense of a quarter of my term mark." Tara sighed, giving Tristan a look of utter loathing.

"So, tell me a bit about yourself," Tristan said cheerfully.

"I care enough about my grades to bear through you," Tara answered, her voice holding a very prominent bite to it. "I can and will kick your ass if you do anything perverted, I don't get blinded by looks alone, and once I have my opinion of something, it rarely changes."

Tristan held his hands but chuckled, "Come on, I was thinking more along the lines of hobbies, interests, background…"

"That information would have to be given if we were friends or beginning to be which isn't ever going to happen no matter how much you black mail me." Tara said stubbornly.

"Are you ever going to show even a hint of kindness? This can hardly be called civility." Tristan said. He draped an arm carelessly around her and cocked his head to the side. "How can I get you to loosen up?" He leaned closer to her.

Tara pushed his arm away and ducked away from his approaching lips. "Not by doing this." Her lips curled into a line of disgust and she stood up, brushing off his attempt to stop her. "I'm done with this."

"Ms Wyrnell-" Tristan started.

"Dude, don't." Mark stopped him.

Tara strode off without another backwards glance, leaving Tristan to give his friend a less-than-happy look.

"Listen, no means no, haven't you learned that from Rory?" Mark muttered, backing down instantly upon seeing the look on Tristan's face.

"No never means no with him," Madeline smirked. "I honestly don't remember a time when you weren't able to sway a girl. Even Rory kissed you back that one time."

"Yeah, I'm sure Tristan will win her over in no time," Chris nodded.

"She's so frigid, though!" Leslie inputted with distaste. "What happened to the sweet bimbos? Or at least you could find someone slightly nicer; Rory was polite. I can't see why you'd find this Elden girl worth your time."

"She's fairly hot, but definitely not the hottest here," Terry agreed. "Many others to choose from. Many hotter, more cooperative girls here."

The others discussed this for the rest of lunch hour; not really interpreting that Tristan was remaining silent. Tristan was feeling inwardly frustrated and lonely. They wouldn't understand this. He hadn't expected them to. They couldn't see that she was the only girl who didn't know him from his pre-military days, the only girl who refused to accept the fact that he was a pretty face and worthy of adoration. She would make him delve deeper. She would make him prove himself to her, show her other dimensions. Other girls couldn't care less, they didn't want to know him or see past his cocky, attractive exterior, as long as the latter was there. Tristan didn't just want to pursue her because she wasn't interested, he desperately needed someone to understand that he wasn't just a pretty boy; he desperately needed to gain the acceptance of someone other than the Chiltonites. Besides, somehow Tristan believed that the persistent unbreakable coldness she gave off wasn't the only thing to her. He had seen the way she softened, ever so subtly, when she thought no one was around. Tara's harshness would be very difficult to overcome but if he did manage to ultimately overcome it, it would be that much more worthwhile. Her acceptance and tolerance, and perhaps more than simply that, would be that much more creditable since she seemed to despise him currently. This was really derisory, Tristan Dugrey needing validation. But it was true. All the validation in his life seemed false, fake, he never had to earn it. And now he was determined to with Tara. Tristan found himself realizing that he'd much rather banter with Tara, being insulted and rejected, then with these 'friends' being praised and worshipped. His friends had known him for many years and yet they didn't _know _him. Through his entire time at military school, none of them had tried to contact him, yet the moment he returned they were at his side as if nothing had happened, as if they hadn't abandoned him. His life was so much like a show it was actually laughable.


	4. Chapter 4

"You heard the old bat," Tristan grinned, putting an arm around Tara's shoulders as the two left the English room. "I'm thinking your place, right after school?"

"We are not going to my house to work on this." Tara said firmly, giving Tristan a steely glare. Her tone suggested how ludicrous she thought it was that he actually felt there was a chance she would even consider it.

"The first draft is due tomorrow, the library is closed today, and, I would suggest my place, but my mother's holding a lunch party there today." He crossed his arms.

"Uggggh." Tara groaned. "I hate her. I hate her. With a burning fire, do I hate her! There's got to be another location. You are not stepping foot anywhere near my house!"

Sadly for Tara, she couldn't think of any other place soon enough. The two ended up in her living room, their school things sprawled across her coffee table. "Let's get this done as fast as we humanly can." Tara grumbled.

"Not so fast. Do you have any pretzels?" Tristan glanced around and headed to the kitchen.

"What? No. Why? Come back here! Don't wander! For the love of-" Tara exclaimed.

"You don't have pretzels?" Tristan turned to her, disappointed.

"No, I don't. Now sit down-" she said.

"I can't work without pretzels." Tristan shrugged.

"What are you talking about?" blurted Tara exasperatedly. Her eyes widened when she saw that he was inching towards her front door. "Tristan! Where are you going?"

"We need pretzels." He repeated. "I seriously can't work without that specific snack food. I'll just swing by and pick some up, I'll only be ten minutes."

"Do you even know where the closest grocery store is? I'll go with you if you insist-" answered Tara, scrambling to stop him.

"No, no, what kind of gentleman would I be if I made you do that? Don't worry, I remember seeing a Co-op when we drove down here. I swear, I won't be gone for long." Tristan grinned. "Why don't you just set up the stuff?"

"Oh my God, stop procrastinating and sit your ass down so we can do this!" Tara ordered.

"Gotta have my pretzels," Tristan chuckled. With a quick wave he was out the door.

"Tristan!" she yelled as he got into his car. He blew her a kiss from his car and drove off.

Fifteen minutes later, Tristan was chuckling to himself as he drove back up to her house. A large bag of pretzels lay beside him. It was just so easy antagonizing her! As he pulled up to the curb, Tristan wondered curiously who had pulled up while he was gone for there was a large SUV parked directly in front of Tara's house. Her parents, perhaps?

Tristan hopped out of the car and jogged to the front door and was about to enter the house when he heard a male voice yell. Deciding it might be best to stay outside for a little bit, Tristan frowned and strained to hear the conversation.

"Who the hell does this belong to!" the voice boomed. "Are you seeing someone behind my back?"

"What are you talking about? We broke up!" Tara's voice protested, though Tristan detected a hint of emotion he hadn't heard before. He couldn't quite place it…

"I can't believe this-" the voice growled. Tristan heard a thudding noise and then, "I can't see you right now!" Loud footsteps in his direction. Tristan glanced around and strode quickly to the side of the house. A moment later, he saw the owner of the voice. A dirty-blonde guy who looked about Tristan's age and height left the building. Tristan waited until the angry person had driven off before he walked into Tara's house. He spotted her sitting on the floor. Her head whipped up at the sound of the door opening and Tristan thought he saw a look of fear in her eyes. The expression lasted only a second, though, soon to be replaced with a sardonic smile.

"Got your pretzels?" she rolled her eyes.

"Uh, who was that?" he wasn't going to let her off that easily.

"No one. Let's get working." She said evasively.

"Ex-boyfriend?" Tristan guessed.

"I don't want to talk about it. Now stop procrastinating because we have to get this stupid draft done and you've wasted enough time." She looked away but not before shooting him an annoyed look. She was acting moody and indifferent to him as usual and for the first time Tristan realized that it was act. He wondered how much of her that he'd seen was just a mask. He mercifully decided to drop the subject and started working, though curiosity burned in his mind.

The two managed to finish the first draft without too much trouble, though Tristan did squeeze in a little bit of extra time than was necessary. Considering Tristan, it was quite surprising to Tara that he wasn't more off-task. He had noticed her discomfort and hadn't been cruel enough to worsen it for her. The fact that he didn't prod and was fairly kind that afternoon redeemed his image just a smidgen in Tara's eyes. She begrudgingly began to respect him a little.

Tristan hadn't insisted on having her sit with his friends again at lunch. He was still, however, intent on spending time with her.

"Look, I realize you may not have enjoyed my friends' company last lunch hour…" Tristan started, leaning against her locker. "And I'm not an ass. Really, I'm not. So you don't have to eat with them with you don't want to."

"Oh, really? Thanks so much for your permission. I don't know how I'd manage without you around, gracious guy that you are." Tara smiled sweetly. She couldn't help it, snarky words were just second nature for her.

"Tara, please. Come on, can't we have lunch?" he said.

"We tried that. I gave it a shot. And my verdict is that you surround yourself with people just as jerk-like as you are. I'll see you next English class." The girl shook her head and began to walk away.

"How about that burger place two blocks down? They have the best fries." Tristan wasn't relenting. He strode in step with her, no sign of resignation on his handsome face.

"I'd rather not. Brown bagging it today," she waved the lunch bag for emphasis.

"Fine. Well, there's a party tomorrow at Lucille's place if you want-" the blonde slipped in.

"Tristan. We aren't friends. We aren't dating. We aren't anything but partners on an English project. Can't you just drop it?" Tara sighed.

"Can't you give me a chance before you label and dismiss me?" Tristan answered, sharpness in his voice.

"I've seen your friends. I've listened to them check off how awful I am. I've walked these halls, brimming with snobs like you. I've seen your world and I frankly like mine better. I don't think you're my type anyways. I don't go for the conceited playboys who can't take no for an answer." She snapped. With that, she pried Tristan's hand off her arm and strode away without looking back.

Tristan heaved a heavy sigh and looked to the cafeteria, where he could see his friends waving him over. With a shake of his head, he turned in the opposite direction and went to eat by himself, his eyes tired.

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A/N: It's short, but I've always sucked at doing long chapters. I just wanted to get something up, I haven't updated anything in way too long... 


	5. Chapter 5

After school that day, Tristan was noticeably tired. As he stood at his locker, shifting his textbooks around, he seemed a bit detached. His locker was surprisingly neat; Tristan happened to be a bit of a neat freak. There were a few pictures plastered on the metallic door; a few shots of cars and some of women, photos one would typically find in the locker of a teenage male. Tristan also had a sweater tidily hanging on one of the hooks and he had two shelves set up, one had all his textbooks arranged alphabetically in terms of subject, the other shelf with the corresponding notebooks and binders. There wasn't one article of garbage in the entire locker.

"Tristan," Tara's voice greeted. Tristan turned his eyes to her and smiled cockily.

"What's up?" he said.

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry if I was a bit harsh earlier. It's sort of a knee-jerk reaction when it comes to you." Tara said, ignoring his remark.

"Gee, thanks." Tristan rolled his eyes.

"What I mean is, I was more of an ass than you were today and that thought didn't make me too happy. Any ways, I'm sure you must have had a better lunch with your friends than you would've had with me. I'll see you tomorrow." Tara told him, the sharpness, for once, absent in her tone.

"Bye." Tristan answered.

The short reply surprised Tara. "What? No snarky wise-ass comments?"

Tristan merely shrugged.

"You're seriously going to go a full conversation with me without trying to hit on me even once?" Tara raised her eyebrows.

Tristan lightly put his arm around Tara's waist. "Do you miss it?" He laughed and kissed her.

Tara pulled away and rolled her eyes. "There's the Dugrey I recognize. I was starting to wonder if something was wrong."

"Oh, you know you liked the kiss." He smirked. "No need to worry about me, Mary."

"The least you could do is not recycle the nicknames you've used for other girls," she frowned. "I thought you people would have more originality than to use the same biblical insults on multiple people."

"Aw, are you upset that you don't have your own unique pet name? You should have said something, babe." Tristan's eyes danced.

"Whatever. Something to think about, Dugrey, what makes you so sure I'm a Mary?" Tara blurted.

"Are you saying you're not?" Tristan said in surprise.

Tara muttered something under her breath and just walked away. The flustered manner in which she left caused Tristan to grin. Her reaction made it obvious that it was a slip of the tongue that made her say what she did. Curiosity lighted in his mind. How could Tara Elden not be a Mary?

Tara cursed as she left the school. It was a stupid thing to say. She wanted to hit Tristan. The damn boy always managed to drive her to her worst. She hoped he wouldn't think too much of her comment. Why did she have to open her big mouth?

Rory was walking outside the school and caught sight of Tara's expression. She cocked her head curiously and strode over.

"Hey. Is everything all right?" Rory questioned the girl.

"Oh, yeah, just Dugrey crap again." Tara shook her head.

"Is he still hounding you?" she sighed.

"We're stuck on the same project. I'm loving Wyrnell so much for that." Tara rolled her eyes.

"Ugh. Sometimes I wish he just stayed in military school. Nothing changed in him, he's still the spoiled, cocky brat he always was." Rory shook her head.

"Dugrey went to military school?" Tara frowned in surprise.

"You didn't know?"

"I love to see that you lovely ladies are so infatuated with me," Tristan grinned, walking up behind the two. "Now that you're here Rory, I think a little ceremony is necessary. Former Mary, meet current Mary. I'm afraid your title's lost. Eh, though maybe Mary Magdalene might be more accurate. What do you think?"

"Slither away, why don't you?" Tara snapped. "I try to be nice and all you can do is be an ass."

"It's something I've learned from experience, don't bother being nice to Tristan." Rory glared at him.

The bus pulled up and Rory sighed. "Sorry to leave you here alone with him, but I have to go."

"See you." Tara said.

"Bye bye now Lorelai." Tristan said in a singsong voice.

Tara turned away from the blonde and hoped he would just leave.

"Leaving so soon?" Tristan mock-pouted. "But you were so interested in me just a second ago."

Tara ignored him.

"Don't compare notes about me with Rory." Tristan told her. "Really, if you want to know that badly, talk to me."

"Did you really go to military school?" Tara hesitantly asked.

Tristan's pager rang at that moment. He glanced at it and flashed a smile at Tara. "Got to run."

He ran off before Tara could get in another word.

He didn't actually have to hurry off anywhere. It was just Lucille reminding him for the millionth time that her party was tomorrow. Tristan shook his head as he drove away from Chilton. It figured that Rory would just have to feel compelled to tell the one and only person who hadn't known about his military school days about it. He was not about to discuss those days with anyone and the fact that Tara hadn't known about it had made things so much easier for Tristan. Running a hand through his hair, Tristan put on a CD and pushed the volume to the max, trying to block out the memories that were now resurfacing in his mind against his will. No matter how hard he tried to repress those days, they would always stay with him. Thank you so much, Rory.

Tristan wasn't heading home. It was 4 o'clock on a Wednesday, which meant that there was a ninety percent chance that he would walk in on his mother screwing the UPS guy. His father always got business deliveries on Wednesdays. Ironic really. Oh crap, now Tristan was juggling images of his mother and "Tyler" along with the military memories.

It was a little over a year ago that Tristan had walked in on this specific affair. He had come home just to pick up something before meeting some friends and he had encountered the two figures in the front foyer, right in the open. After walking in on them twice more, Tristan realized that it was a fixed schedule. As long as he stayed away from the house between 3:30 and 5:30 on Wednesdays, he should be all right for the time being. That is until his mother decided to pick a new guy or a new time. It was the sixth serious affair Tristan knew of.

The very first one Tristan was aware of occurred when he was twelve. That was a very fun day. That was one of the reasons his mother lavished him with so much money and gifts, she was fluffing him up so he wouldn't spill the news. Not that Tristan's father was in any way clueless. When Tristan was fourteen he realized that his dad did have the knowledge that his wife was cheating on him. Why did the two stay together then? For one, it was Tristan's mother who had the big money when the two first married. Tristan's father wasn't poor before but he wasn't rich either. The entire Dugrey Empire began with Celia Frustbeigger Dugrey's cash. And the pre-nup was heavily in Celia's favour. Filing for divorce would mean a loss of multi-millions to Tristan's father. Therefore, a system of denial was worked out. Of course, Celia didn't know that her husband was aware of her infidelity. It was thanks to her that Tristan was out of military school. If it had been up to Tristan's father he would have spent the rest of his high school years in military confinement. Tristan was bitter about all this. The only reason his mother wheedled his father into let him out was because she didn't want him to squeal. Sometimes Tristan wondered if his parents actually did give a shit about him.

Pulling into an empty lot, Tristan killed the engine. He laid his head on his steering wheel and sighed heavily. He opened the car door and walked into the familiar park. Tristan made a beeline for a specific tree and gingerly reached into the hollow trunk and took out a bag. His eyes hard, he removed the cold bottle and took a long sip of the alcohol inside, as per his usual Wednesday afternoon routine.

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A/N: Yes, I actually updated! It's June, so finals soon, which is why I've taken so long. RnR if you want. Yes I put in a little bit more Rory, she will be in here more soon. And yes, you will find out more about the guy in chapter 4 later on. 


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** No, this will not be a Trory, it's Tristan/OC, though Rory will be in here, hints of Dory and Jory.

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A painful sounding ring jarred Tristan's subconscious. Frowning in pain and disorientation, Tristan slowly opened his eyes. He was sprawled in the front seat of his car, which was still parked beside the park. Rubbing his temple, Tristan made a half-hearted attempt to locate the source of the annoying noise. He realized it was his cell phone. 

"Yeah?" Tristan rasped.

"Tris? They're going to call your parents soon if you don't get here, fast." The clear voice of the school gossip princess, Vivien, quietly warned him.

"What?" Tristan blinked in confusion. "What time is it?"

"9:30." Vivien said.

"AM?" he asked.

"Yes. What's with you?" Tristan could practically see the pursed lips and the pouty frown on the girl's face. "The school is going to call your parents in less than half an hour to tell them you didn't show up yet."

He cursed inside. "All right. Thanks." Tristan swallowed, hanging up. Damn, he must have gotten seriously hammered last night…

It was lucky that Tristan had so many connections. Vivien was sort of an assistant for the school office; she was the one who looked over the class attendance lists to tell the secretaries who were absent and whom to call. It wasn't a difficult job and it let her cut half of first period, not to mention it put her in a gossip hot spot. She was the first one to hear about suspensions, expulsions, etc. Then of course was the fact that she could forewarn her friends about the school phone calls- putting her in the good books for much of the school population.

Tristan wanted to hit something. He was driving pretty fast down the road, berating himself for passing out for so long. He couldn't care less about actually being late but ever since the whole thing with Bowman's dad's safe, his father was watching him a bit more carefully and he would not be happy to be disturbed at work to hear that his son was an hour late for school. Anything that showed people what a disgraceful mistake his son was put him in a massively frightening mood. One trace that their lives weren't perfect and put together would not be tolerated. Funny, considering the Dugrey's were one of the most dysfunctional families there were. Tristan didn't come home for up to weeks at a time, Mrs. Dugrey was chalking up a nice hearty number of affairs, Mr. Dugrey was a workaholic with denial and anger management issues and yet the thing Mr Dugrey chose to freak out about was the fact that Tristan was a bit late for class.

Veering violently into the Chilton student parking lot, Tristan slammed on the brakes at his reserved spot and broodingly strode towards the school.

"Oh, thank God. I crossed your name off their list, but I think they're starting to get suspicious about that." Vivien greeted him.

"Thanks, Viv. I owe you one." Tristan flashed a grin at the girl, his façade flawlessly running.

"Naw, take this as my payback for Bobby's August pool party." She smiled seductively. Tristan chuckled and walked to class. He knew there was a reason he slept with her…

Taking a few calming breaths, Tristan tried to push down his feelings of nausea and ignored the staggering migraine he had, both tokens of the insane hang over from the previous night. Forcing a smile on his face, he opened the door to his class and walked in.

"Late again, Mr. Dugrey?" Ms. Wyrnell clucked. "You were doing so well…"

"Better late than never," he smiled. His brain wasn't functioning properly yet and he was in no mood to come up with a better line.

"Not that you ever grace me with an apology, but I would think your charm would be better spent on your partner. This class was one of the planning ones I put aside for your project. Get to work, you can still get some work done." The teacher said disapprovingly.

Inwardly groaning, he shifted his gaze to the class. Sure enough, he found Tara Elden giving him a death glare from her seat; papers laid out on her desk. It had completely evaded his mind that he had English first period.

"Hey, sorry I'm late," Tristan said, plopping himself down in front of her. He was still so groggy; it was proving near impossible to keep up that he was fine and fully functional.

"Where have you been?" she crossed her arms.

"Around. Did you miss me?" he was going to keep smiling if it killed him.

"Considering you insisted on keeping the notes we made for this project, I've been stewing at the fact that you're an irresponsible jack ass who cares about nothing but himself." Tara bit out.

Insults first thing in the morning when 95 of his lights were still out in his mind was not a good way to go. "Look, I'm sorry. Just leave it already."

"Did you bring the notes?" sighed Tara.

"…No." Tristan shrugged, leaning across the desk.

"What were you planning to do, then?" she grumbled in frustration, her voice rising.

The noise pierced his mind and made his migraine another notch worse. Unable to completely suppress the grimace, Tristan fought the urge to hold his head between his hands. "We have time."

"What happened to you?" Tara frowned.

"Nothing." He shrugged again.

"I can smell the liquor radiating off you! You're hung over, aren't you?" she demanded incredulously. She squinted her eyes and gave him a close once-over. "And it looks like you slept in those clothes!"

"So what, huh? Mind your own fucking business!" Tristan snapped out. "Would it kill you to stop being such an analytical bitch with a pencil so far up your ass that it's irretrievable!"

Tristan's out burst shocked Tara, who stiffened and held up her hand. "Whoa. Sorry."

"Are we going to get this damn project done or what?" Tristan exclaimed.

"Don't bite my head off just because you went to some party and got yourself so hammered you forgot all else." Tara lifted her chin up crossly.

"Don't you even start. Don't try and assume you know anything at all about me." Tristan sharply growled.

"Tristan, seriously, what is up with you?" Tara blurted, her eyebrows raised.

"I'm fine." He said through clenched teeth, trying desperately to regain control of himself.

"You've never been explosive." Tara pointed out.

"I said I'm fine, all right, babe?" somehow, Tristan managed to plaster a smile back on. "Now come on, what did you do while I was gone?"

Deciding to drop the issue, Tara reluctantly showed him the papers she had scrawled on.

The bell rang a few minutes later, sufficiently killing him. How was he going to get through this day?

As the class filed out of the room, Tristan saw Tara looking at him warily. Smiling, Tristan wrapped one of his arms around her and gave her a light squeeze.

"Don't worry about me, babe, I'm fine. Just a bit tired, is all." He said reassuringly.

"You look a bit, uh," Tara began hesitantly. "Okay, I'm just going to be frank, you look like ass and your temper is obviously flaring, and I know this is probably the worst time I could bring this up, but, well, I'm curious… so don't bite my head off. Did you really go to Military School?"

He really must shoot Rory. His eyes darkened subtly as he gave an unconcerned answer. "Yeah, I did, for a few months of last year."

"Why-" she began.

"Please, Tara, don't ask for details." Tristan interrupted, the slightest trace of pleading in his voice.

"…Okay." Tara nodded, noticing the tone and the tired look in his eyes that she was unaccustomed to seeing, she dropped it without question. "…I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it." Tristan flashed another smile. "I'll be seeing you later, Mary." Clapping her briefly on the shoulder, Tristan walked away.

Tara watched him walk away and frowned. She had never seen Tristan like that before. She didn't think he had ever said please in a serious, non-mocking way before. Come to think of it, it was a rare feat for Tristan to even call her by her actual name. He was so not himself… The arrogant jerk was floundering on the surface but he seemed so out of it. It was as if his ass like comments were strained. For the first time, Tara wondered what went on beneath the surface of Tristan Dugrey.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** _Whoa, I've been updating oddly quickly... I'm so in tune with this story right now, for the time being the writer's block is banished, ha. BTW, I absolutely suck at coming up with title names so if anyone has any alternate title suggestions, I'd be very happy! I'm thinking of changing the title for a third time, so watch out for it:o). I'm thinking about doing a Trory (not in this fic, of course) which could prove to be very stupid asI'm already juggling 8 stories, butthe ideas are nagging at me so we'll have to see if I can ignore the mad impulses... : DThanks for the reviews! They fuel my writing process, lol. I always forget to put in the disclaimer, but I don't own Gilmore Girls or the characters of Tristan Dugrey or Rory Gilmore, or the idea of Chilton prep, though this specific plot is my own idea and Tara Elden is mine, too. Anyways, read on and hopefully review!_

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**Chapter 7**

Tara knew she gave off the impression that she was a little… on edge sometimes. All right, fine, she could be a bit of a bitch to certain people at certain times. Namely to Tristan whenever he spoke to her. But she wasn't cold, really. The weird but true fact was that the whole banter thing she had developed with Tristan was kind of growing on her. He was infuriating, yes. But he was the only male to get so many insults thrown at him and still come back for more. He was probably one of the only people she knew who wouldn't take her snippy remarks to heart. She had gotten used to his light-hearted retorts, which were almost always predominately laced with flirtatiousness.

Therefore, his manner earlier really nagged on Tara's mind. So, she found herself following her conscience, but definitely against her better judgement, walking towards his locker at lunch. Tristan was laughing with some guy Tara didn't know, and he seemed to be in fine spirits. Doubt and hesitancy clouded Tara's mind as she slowed down. This was really stupid and she knew it. All signs pointed to Tristan taking this in his always-arrogant manner. What she was planning to do would give a very unnecessary ego boost to his already clearly definitive self-confidence and would only succeed in making him even more conceited… Yet, she still remembered the sharpness in his voice and how quickly he had replaced that with a seemingly carefree smirk. That stupid voice tsked that he could be faking it all. It wasn't her problem, she told herself. And yet, she was still standing there when Tristan's friend had left, leaving Tristan alone at his locker.

Taking a breath and steadying herself for the regret she knew she'd be feeling very soon, Tara took the last few steps to his locker. She opened her mouth to speak… and stopped once Tristan had turned to face her, smirk readily placed on his face. She instantly turned around. This was a bad idea…

"Oh, come on, Mary, I know you came over to say something to me. You can do it, don't be shy," Tristan laughed. "I know my attractiveness is impossibly blinding to the senses, but don't let it intimidate you."

Ten thousand snarky remarks filled her head but somehow she ignored them all, her concerned inner do-gooder's whispers still thrashing at her to reach out. "Tristan, I just wanted to see if you-" How could she phrase this in a nice, yet in an I-still-think-you're-a-piece-of-shit sort of way? "Do you still want to go to lunch?"

Tristan's surprise was evident. He raised his eyebrows, a half-smile forming on his lips. Well, well, well someone was being friendly. The smile faded a bit as the obviousness of her intentions floated through his mind. Keeping his expression neutral, if not a little bored, Tristan answered, "Tara, I told you I was fine. You don't have to baby sit me. I don't want your pity."

"Oh come on, what if I want to bask in your Highness's glory?" Tara sarcastically snorted. "Don't flatter yourself, Dugrey, we have to work on that project and you missed English class today."

"You want to work through lunch?" he crossed his arms.

"You want to fail?" Tara answered, mimicking his arm crossing. "Okay, now you took the notes last time, if you lost them I swear I will make you pay."

"You're sounding a bit like Paris. That's not a good thing." Tristan said.

"Hurry up, we only have an hour and knowing you, you're probably going to procrastinate or get sidetracked in some way so we'd better get started immediately. We can't do it in the cafeteria, there's way too many people who would skip up to you and talk, so let's go to one of the cafes near here. The closest one is just across the street, I think that's the best option. That way, we have a window of time, we'd have a time frame that happens after we ordered and before the food arrives, meaning in theory that you'd have to work." Tara rambled.

Tristan knew full well that this was still a pity, let's-make-sure-sensitive-Tristan-is-peachy-keen offer, but he was grateful that she covered it up with the project as an alibi. Even through her brisk words, he could still see the concern in her eyes. Serves him right for letting himself snap, he hadn't lost control of himself in a while.

"I don't lose anything." Tristan said, opening his locker so she could see into it. He knew precisely where the notes were and he found them in a few seconds.

Staring into his impeccably organized locker, Tara couldn't help but gawk, "Oh my God. I would never have guessed that you of all people are a neat freak!" She took a step closer to get a better view of the locker.

Tristan chuckled, and sheepishly and slightly defensively replied, "I'm not a neat freak."

"There are shelves dividing up textbooks and subject notes. It's colour coded. You're a neat freak." She shook her head.

"Maybe now you'll trust me a bit," he smiled. "I know exactly where to place everything. I'm an expert." He smoothly placed his hand on her thigh and leaned in. "Want a demonstration?"

Pushing him off of her, Tara lightly pushed Tristan towards the door. "We have homework to work on, and even if I had all of eternity and you were the last living thing in the entire friggin universe I still wouldn't let you come within twelve inches."

"I can work outside of twelve inches." He leered.

"Oh can it. Bring your notes, and let's get a move on." She said.

As Tristan watched the girl walk a little bit ahead of him, he couldn't help but smirk. Was it just him or was she actually beginning to lighten up more around him? Had he said what he said to her when they first met, he probably would've gotten a slap. All right, so she was obviously being a bit softer to him since his shaky outburst that morning, but it still signified that she didn't completely hate him. Which was all he really needed. Now that he had one foot in the door, the rest was fairly easy.

As if she could read his thoughts, Tara paused a moment to wait for him to catch up and gave him a pointed look. "I know that smirk, and I know what you're probably thinking. So stop. You are a despicable vermin that I would never date, unless you've learned nothing of all my actions towards you since we've met. I've decided that for the purpose of this project I'll be somewhat human to you, but that does not in any way mean that I've grown fonder of you. So stop smirking!"

"You really are Paris-like." Tristan cocked his head.

"Shut up! I am not." She shoved him into the wall.

"Ow! Yeah, I definitely see Paris. Violent and aggressive, not to mention _mean_." Tristan rubbed his arm.

His choice of his last adjective persuaded a tiny smile to appear on Tara's face. It made him sound like a little boy; it was a juvenile comment she hadn't heard in ages. "I'm not violent or aggressive, it's called being ASSERTIVE! It's not my fault that I care about my grades and actually want to get into an ivy league, unlike some people (cough) you. And I am not mean, can't you just accept the fact that maybe I don't LIKE you?"

"Are you ever friendly?" he asked.

"If your first words to me weren't along the lines of 'so, do you want to let me screw you in the janitor's closet?' I might be a bit more open." She rolled her eyes.

"Hey, you jumped to that conclusion. I was being a gentleman, all I suggested was that it might be helpful for me to give you a tour of the school, seeing as you were new. It was an innocent attempt at friendship, is it my fault you're so paranoid?" Tristan said, amused.

"First lesson: if you ever want me to be anything less than hostile to you, stop trying to bull shit me, as I said earlier. I dislike liars almost more than I dislike pervs. Well, really, it's a tie, I guess." She rolled her eyes. The two crossed the street, the café was within view.

"All right, all right. Is it my fault you're so damn hot?" Tristan smirked.

"Do all people with penis's have the brain capacity of a gorilla? Honestly, could you get any more cave man?" retorted Tara.

"See, I just paid you a compliment and you insulted me. You've never said anything nice to me in the one and a half weeks we've known each other." Tristan mock-pouted.

"You're good at taking rejection." She smiled sweetly. "Now maybe one day, if you stop being such an ass, I'll pay you an actual compliment."

"You're an ass, too." He laughed.

"Maybe if you would stop with this whole act you've put up and actually let people in to more than just the arrogant wiseass, I'd like you more." She muttered under her breath resentfully.

"What?" he blinked.

The two were now sitting across from each other at the café. Tristan had wisely decided that sitting next to her wouldn't be the best idea.

"Never mind." She shook her head. "Come on, let's get out the project papers."

"You know, you don't need homework as an excuse to have lunch with me. You could just ask." Tristan crossed his arms.

"And have you spaz out that you don't need my pity?" she raised an eyebrow. "Listen, Dugrey, I know there's got to be more to you than this whole spoiled rich-kid playboy thing you keep slapping in my face. Isn't there?"

"There's got to be more than this whole man-hating distanced, cold, bitchiness to you." Tristan pointed out evasively.

"Did you just say I was a bitch?" she stuck her jaw out indignantly.

"You can be one." He shrugged. She threw a peppershaker at him. "Hey! You told me not to lie and bull shit you!"

"If I'm a bitch, bastard doesn't even begin to describe you." She sullenly responded.

"I have a healthly appreciation for the opposite sex, I'll admit to that. Okay, so I've been described as horny. And I can be a bit edgy at times, but I'm not a bastard." He shook his head.

"I'm sure the female population at Chilton would agree whole-heartedly." Tara said drolly.

"Is it bastardly for me to realize that I'm no longer interested in a girl and I don't want to lead her on?" Tristan said stubbornly.

"The fact that you let a girl know that you're not interested by making out with another girl in front of her is bastardly." She answered.

"I don't do that," Tristan stated.

"You're a man whore, admit it."

"I have a decent list of ex-girlfriends but I've never cheated on any of them." Tristan straightened, taking a sip from his coffee.

"Fine, fine." She shrugged. "Okay, so you got all huffy earlier when I assumed that you got drunk at a party. So if that wasn't the case, why are you so hung over?"

"Never mind that, I didn't get _that _wasted." Tristan brushed off. He wasn't going to tell her anything; that much was certain.

"Will your friends mind that you left without telling them?" Tara awkwardly asked, covering for the silence that had passed.

"I don't need their approval," he laughed, "What about you? How are you finding Chilton? Made any new friends yet?"

"It's hard… I'll admit it, I'm kind of floundering a bit with school." The girl answered honestly. "And, as you've so kindly noted and pointed out, I'm not the most social person."

"Floundering?" Tristan raised his eyebrows as he played a bit with the rim of his cup. "You give off the aura of a person who would be at the top of the class. Giving Paris and Rory a run for their money."

"It's just that everyone seems to be so far ahead… the two previous years spent here that nearly everyone had gives me a disadvantage for sure… I feel out of the loop. Everyone's used to all this pile of homework and everyone's accustomed to all the teachers so they know the individual quirks and what each teacher wants. Like, yesterday, Mr Byle assigned a history paper and his idea of criteria is 'the same formula we always use, class'." she confided.

"And you were just too stubborn to ask, weren't you?" Tristan grinned. "You've got a proud streak that's going to harm you sooner or later. Byle's typical essay standard is just a 4000-6000-word paper, single-spaced in blue or black ink, with a cover page and a bibliography attached. With your name, class, and date in the header, and page numbers in the footer. Oh, and font size no larger than 14, no smaller than 11 in readable font style. You could've just asked."

"I'm not _that_ stubborn…but thanks." Sheepishly responded Tara. "So, does he care if we get our info from the net, or books, or does it not matter? My old history teacher insisted on books only."

"Byle's pretty easy going like that, he doesn't much care. Oh, and by the by, Byle doesn't actually count the words in the paper, he never has, so as long as you write a decent amount of pages, you could be off by a few hundred words and he'd never know." Tristan told her. "But he can't stand lates. Believe me, I would know. He doesn't accept essays even one hour after the last bell rings, and only gives extensions if you talk to him about it at least five days before it's due. Normally, other teachers do the whole 20-60-0 percent thing with lates but Byle gives you an automatic zero if it's late."

Tara nodded and actually took down a few notes.

"Okay, and Dalhousie is a sucker for tears, if you cry in front of her, she'll be unable to resist bumping your mark up as much as 15 percent, or give you an extension or whatever, she's a really kind person. Feed her some sappy sob story about how you were up all night staying with your sick dog and it'll just melt her up. Of course, I highly doubt you would need to hear that, little miss perfect that you are." Tristan continued rambling.

The next fifteen minutes were filled with Tristan going through their teachers and listing out their strengths, weaknesses, tolerance levels, and how they graded work.

"Ugh, how am I going to remember all this!" Tara banged her head against the table.

"Don't worry about it, once you spend a month or so here it all melds together and it'll be like second nature. You'll be fine." Tristan reassured. "One more thing, I've mentioned Paris a few times and I know you two must share at least one class so you probably realized this already, but, the thing with Gellar is it's mind numbingly entertaining to piss her off but if you piss her off too badly she'll bring down the world on you. She's got contacts all over and you don't want to be her enemy. Don't suck up to her either, the girls who do just irritate her. Keep a balance. No matter what you do though, I'm sure she'll hate you anyways. If she feels threatened, you'll incur her wrath. Just talk to Rory about that, she knows all about Paris's wrath. Oh, and do try to attend at least one of Lucille or Vivien's parties, if you do you'll be spared being labelled a nerd, dork, insert insulting comment here. Not that you'd have to worry about that, your looks and your bark are way more than enough to stop people from messing with you."

"Lucille's an airhead and Vivien's annoying as hell, I'd rather not," Tara shook her head.

"These parties are huge, it's not like you'd even have to speak to either of them if you went. Some social mingling might do you some good. You don't exactly emit rays of friendliness." Tristan reasoned.

"You know, this is probably our first friendly conversation." Tara said thoughtfully. "You're a perverted jerk!"

"Where did that come from?" Tristan frowned in surprise.

"It was getting too eerie," shrugged Tara, causing Tristan to explode into laughter.

"You insulted me for the sake of insulting me." He shook his head.

"Eh, a few insults here and there is good for the soul." She said.

"Like that makes any sense at all, Mary." He laughed.

"Would you stop calling me that! It's so… used, bland, unoriginal." Exclaimed Tara.

"What would you prefer me call you?" he cocked his head, grinning.

"How about by my barely two-syllable name?" Tara suggested dryly.

"That would be too boring, darling." He said.

Tara shuddered. "Never call me that again."

"Lover." He suggested.

"Ick." She winced.

"Sweetheart." Smiled he.

"I threw up a little in my mouth." She grimaced.

"Pookie." Tristan cooed.

"I might have to stab you soon." Threatened Tara.

"Tar-Tar." Smirked Tris-Tris.

"…With my very sharp fork." She glared.

"Tara cakes." Could these names be any worse?

"…In the eye." The death stare was at full force.

"My raven haired dearie." Oh, God, he had adapted a singsong voice.

"…Continually." Muttered Tara.

"Pumpkin." Would it be wrong to rip out his hair?

"…Until you bleed." She said through clenched teeth.

"Sugar momma." Tristan puckered his lips.

"What the hell!" That one caught Tara off guard.

"Oh, I think we have a winner!" Tristan exclaimed, guffawing madly at the look on her face.

"You're just plain weird." Shuddered Tara.

"That's code for 'take me now' I can sense it," Tristan joked.

"I hope your hair turns green." She shook her head.

"Would you like it better if it did, sugar momma?" he chuckled. "Come on, we've got to get back to school. The bell's going in a few minutes."

"You're a freak, Dugrey." Tara muttered. "I take it back, go back to Mary!"

"Are you going to go back to not speaking to me at all once the project is over?" Tristan questioned as the two walked.

"We're half done… thank God…" she sighed.

Tristan leaned ina bit too close for comfort and stroked Tara's jaw with his fingers."Then I'll be sure to make this last half as interesting as possible. See you later, babe."

"At least you're in a better mood than this morning. The horn dog is back." She recoiled, taking a full four steps back.

"What can I say, an hour with you just changes my world." Tristan laughed.

"Be serious for two seconds, are you really fine?" Tara asked.

"You know I'm _f-i-n-e_," Tristan teased.

"Bad phrasing." She groaned. "Are you okay, honestly? You really weren't acting normally today and, not that I care, but it was weird."

"Look at Mary, being all concerned. It touches me deeply." He mockingly put his hand on his chest. "Don't worry about me, babe."

"If you need someone to talk to, I'm not the best choice, but don't feel like you have to pretend, okay?" It was a surprisingly kind, generous thing for her to say, and completely uncharacteristic of her behaviour towards Tristan, but hey, it was an uncharacteristic day.

"Whatever Mary." Tristan shrugged. He puckered his lips and blew her a kiss before nodding towards the school. "Back to my fellow Chiltonites now, the King does have a few duties. See you around."

He jogged up the stairs into the school. He had to admit; her offer did sort of touch him. It was odd how nice she was being and Tristan hoped that the kindness wasn't due to her pity… If there was one thing he hated, it was being a charity case. Oh well, it wasn't as if anyone needed to know anything about his real problems anyway... But the fact that she had told him that he could talk to her made him feel just the slightest bit better. How odd that he felt he could confide in a girl he knew for less than two weeks when he was surrounded by those he knew for more than two years. As he settled into his thoughts, Tristan recalled feeling that Tara herself wasn't what she seemed. She was hiding too... could her invitation for him to open up to her also double as a plea for him to listen and let her open up to him?


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Tristan Dugrey, or his very sexy chilton uniform. I do own several Chad posters though...and to them I cling...ahhh so good looking

* * *

Tristan was leaning against his wall, contemplating how long he'd have to be at the party for. He'd be expected so he had to show up… Everyone would be there. A smirk flashed across his face as the phone laying a little ways away from him caught his eye. A few phone calls later and he had easily found a piece of information he had been looking for.

"Hello?" a voice answered.

"Tara, baby, how are you?" Tristan grinned into the phone.

"Dugrey!" Tara exclaimed. "How did you get my number? Why are you calling me!"

"I'm rescuing you from a life of boredom, books, and nerdom." He announced. "Come on, we're off to Lucille's party."

"Didn't you hear me tell you a hundred times that I wasn't going!" Tara snapped incredulously.

"I know you're just shy." He brushed off.

"I don't want to go. How did you get my number?" she asked again. "We're not listed!"

"Have you learned nothing of me, Elden?" Tristan laughed. "I have the entire school directory at my finger tips. I can pick you up right now."

"Dugrey, I said no," Grumbled the girl, "And I find it disturbing and stalker-like that you have my number in the first place. You know where I live, too, which isn't comforting either."

"I'm not going to go over to your house and maul you with a chain saw," Tristan sarcastically answered.

"Have fun at Lucille's party." He could tell she was rolling her eyes.

"It'd be so much more fun if you just agreed to go." Tristan glanced at the clock. He still had half an hour until the party started, and arriving late wasn't a weird occurrence for him, so he had plenty of time. "What if I wanted to talk to you? You know, 'stop pretending'."

"_Don't_ make me regret saying that." She told him severely. "I don't think you yourself should go to that party either. I mean, you just had a hang over today, do you really want one tomorrow too?"

"Why are you assuming I'm going to get drunk?" Tristan questioned.

"It wouldn't surprise me if you did, that's all." She said.

"Then don't you think you should come and make sure I don't get in too much trouble? It would be morally wrong for you to let me get drunk tonight." He smiled.

"What's going on at that party, any ways?" Tara asked.

"Getting interested?" Tristan grinned.

"Something's wrong with me and for some reason I can't understand, I don't want you to end up doing anything you'll regret, if you actually are capable of feeling anything but horny selfishness." She sighed.

"So come, watch over me," Tristan wheedled.

"Do you go to every party held?" the disapproving tone was entering her tone.

"Only the good ones." He fiddled with a book on his end table while answering.

"Why do you bother, I mean the way I see it, they're all the same load of trash. I guess it'd have to be different for you, but people just go there to get drunk, or maybe high. They hook up and mingle with all the other fake people. It's so… superficial. Why should I go?" She didn't know how much Tristan agreed with her.

"_I'll_ be there," he couldn't help himself.

"Har har, why did I know that was coming. Seriously, there's nothing there that I'd exactly enjoy. I'm not like you, I'm not friends with everyone there and, well, I don't really want to be. Call me anti-social, call me whatever, but I'm over that."

"What do you mean?" Tristan frowned.

"Never mind. If you insist on going to that party, I hope you have fun, but do yourself a favour, don't do anything stupid." She told him. "And by that I mean, for one night, don't be yourself."

"I'm going to take offence at that!" he chuckled.

"Don't get into too much shit, all right?" Tara sounded tired.

"Do you care?" he scoffed.

"Yeah, I do." She answered. "I may not like you but I don't want anything crappy to happen to you."

"I'm touched. Who knew you cared about me? I'm not going to drink and drive or anything, mom." Tristan laughed. He developed a more serious tone, "No, really though, thanks. Are you sure you don't want to come?"

"Are you sure you do?"

"I don't have a choice, Elden." Tristan said. "See you tomorrow." And he put the phone down. Mindless partying, here we come!

"Tristan! You came!" Lucille beamed as she opened the door to let him in. The grand house was practically bursting with music, and from the looks of it, every person in their age range in Hartford had showed up.

Tristan simply smiled as he walked into the house, not failing to notice the ridiculously short dress Lucille was wearing, not to mention the fact that her breath already reeked of alcohol. Add that to her almost over powering perfume and hair spray and Tristan felt the fleeting urge to duck away. Lucille Mullnania was beautiful, that was undeniably true. At times like these, though, Tristan vilely thought that she brought new meaning to the words 'desperate skank'. The perfect type of person to hook up with, and the worst type to date. Did Tristan actually date? Heh. He was thinking too much. Lucille noticed and he realized she was waiting for him to say something.

"Your parent's aren't coming home tonight, are they?" he laughed, for the sake of ending the silence.

"No, they're out of town until next Thursday. So, you know, no one's going to kick anyone out tomorrow morning if people decided to stay the night…" she grinned. Tristan automatically smirked. "I was talking about if people got too hammered to drive home, you perv!" she giggled, socking his shoulder. "Where is _your_ mind these days?"

The reality was, Tristan had hooked up at Lucille's parties on more than a few occasions. He'd become well acquainted with many of the fifteen bedrooms, not to mention a few walk-in closets, the kitchen pantry, the basement, washrooms, and pool table. What could he say? Desire hit at unexpected times.

What was he going to do tonight… Tristan looked around and dwelled on the limited prospects. Dancing. He wasn't in the mood. Getting drunk? It was a bit early in the party for that… Lucille did have a pool but he didn't feel like getting wet, either. Eh. It wouldn't be hard to find a friend, Tristan recognized seventy percent of the people there, but it was far too loud to be able to hold a steady conversation with anyone. Tristan could feel an unwelcome but nonetheless familiar feeling of loneliness seep into him. He cursed at himself. He was at a party swarming with people, what the hell was wrong with him? A few girls he didn't know smiled at him, another made a questioning gesture- obviously asking him to dance. Shrugging off his annoying caution, Tristan smiled and joined the girls who had been trying to catch his attention.

"What school are you from?" one of the girls asked. She had on a distractingly dark shade of lipstick and buoyantly curled ringlets.

"Chilton." Tristan answered, practically yelling over the music.

"The Prep school?" Her friend, a petite dirty blonde shouted.

"Yeah, that'd be it." He nodded with a grin.

"So do you guys have to wear uniforms?" the blonde played with her glass, looking up at him with a gleam in her eyes.

"Suit and tie," Tristan laughed. He could see where this was going. "Maybe I'll show you it one day." The knowledge that some girls had a thing for private school uniforms in the way that some guys liked girls in catholic schoolgirl uniforms was not lost on Tristan.

"Mmm." Ringlets bit her lip and lightly traced his jaw with her finger. "Wouldn't that piss off your girlfriend? You must have one."

"Haven't found anyone who could show me a good time," he smiled. "Besides, who wants to be tied down, anyways."

"I so agree." The blonde nodded. "A night of careless no-strings-attached fun never hurt anyone."

Tristan got a sudden image of a rowdy three some and a thought automatically flashed through his mind: Hell yeah, that's just the escape I need. The girls seemed to be thinking along the exact lines as the blonde cocked her head and hung her arm around his neck casually and ringlets slipped her arm around his waist, her eyes inviting.

"What would you say to a few hours of fun…maybe you could show us how much spirit a Prep school boy really has." The ringlets suggested, gesturing to an open door that Tristan recognized to be the entrance to one of the bedrooms.

Why not? But somehow a voice in his mind whispered, 'what would Tara say?' Sleeping with random girls wasn't the smartest thing he could do. He was thinking rationally. This was not good. The problem was he didn't consume any alcohol yet, yes, a few drinks would shut off his brain… But he had to drive home. Well, he could crash here… He grabbed a nearby can of beer and chugged it. One beer wasn't going to hurt and besides, Lucille had already said he could crash the night if he wanted to. But a part of him held him back from going with the girls.

"Sorry ladies, I'm going to have to turn you down, as appealing as that offer sounds." He smiled, brushing past them. The music pounded on his head as he grabbed another beer. The next thing he knew he was waking up from a sprawled position on the couch. He must've fallen asleep. Or passed out… Feeling quite like this was not the escape he had sought out, he groggily weaved through the people towards the door. The music was killing him and he just wanted fresh air. The beer had blacked out a lot of the distracting emotions he usually had inside of him and he was feeling much lighter, but he felt it was time to leave the party. For a moment Tristan wondered if he was too intoxicated to drive, after the second beer he wasn't sure if he had grabbed any more. Deciding he had better not risk it, he started to walk.

One foot in front of the other, he silently instructed his feet. It took him a while but it slowly dawned on Tristan that his house was twenty minutes away from Lucille's by car. It'd be a fairly long walk, especially considering he wasn't even aware of which direction he was going. He continued striding along for what felt like hours before giving up and stumbling onto the ground. Pulling himself up again, Tristan tried to see where he was. He didn't recognize much.

"Tristan?" a familiar voice called out in shock. He blinked and turned to the voice.

"I thought you weren't going to the party-" Tristan smirked, waving at Tara who was standing outside a shop staring at him with her mouth open.

"And I thought you weren't going to do anything stupid. We're not near any residential places, did you walk all the way here from the party! The closest house is at least an hour walk from here. How hammered did you get?" she sighed.

"I'm not being stupid, I'm walking aren't I, not driving," he wagged his finger.

"Ugh. You were walking in the middle of the road. All right, come here," she rolled her eyes and grasped his arm. She turned and led the blonde to a car and pushed him in the back seat and buckled him in. A moment later an older woman walked out of the shop and raised her eyebrows upon seeing the semi-conscious teen in her backseat.

"He's wandering, drunk, we should give him a ride." She explained. "Tristan, what's your address?"

Tristan muttered something barely comprehendible and the car took off. A good forty five minutes later the car screeched to a halt and Tara got out and opened the door, gently pulling Tristan onto his driveway.

"Do you have your keys?" she asked.

"I dunno, do I? Want to check my wallet, it's in my pant pocket-" he laughed. "Just kidding." He jingled a key chain out of his jacket pocket and dangled them in her face. She snatched them and half-pushed half-carried Tristan into his dark house.

She walked him to his couch and plopped him down. Glancing around, she tossed a shawl-like item over him and after a moment went over to him with a glass of water. He grinned and took a sip.

"Thanks." He muttered. Tara tipped his glass over and splashed the water over his face. "What the hell-"

"Stop getting so drunk. Stop wandering in the middle of he road. Next time you feel like you can't drive, call a cab, honestly. Don't be such a moron!" Tara exclaimed, a hint of anger and worry seeping in. Without waiting for a response, she turned around and headed for the door.

"Taraaa?" he crooned as she reached the door.

"What, Dugrey?" she sighed.

"Thank you." and those two words were the least tipsy-sounding words he had managed all night. "Really. I owe you."

"Don't get yourself killed and we'll call it even." Tara managed a small smile and left the building.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** It's been two months, wow, I'm sorry! This isn't very long but I felt I had to put it up. Gilmore Girls and One Tree Hill are back on, yay! If Tristan seems overly nice in this, it's Lucas Scott's fault for being so damn sweet ha ha.

* * *

"Hey. I just wanted to thank you again for helping me out last night." Tristan's clear voice softly whispered in Tara's ear as she got her books from her locker the next morning.

She let out an involuntary shiver as she felt his warm breath on her neck. Closing her locker, she gave the boy a nod and started to walk off.

"Not even a hello, today?" Tristan pushed off the locker and walked alongside her. "Or even a smile?" he let out a whistle.

"You obviously don't care enough to listen to what I have to say, I don't see why I should waste my words on you." She curtly responded, not even sparing him a glance.

"What are you talking about?" he frowned. "I listen to you."

"I was starting to think I was being too harsh about my judgment on you. After all, you didn't seem too bad. You were even starting to grow on me. Classically bullshitted. The way I was thinking in itself should have tipped me off right away but somehow it didn't." Tara shook her head, keeping her gaze ahead of her.

"Could you stop for a moment and explain what you're bitching about now?" Tristan sighed in exasperation, standing in her way so she would have to stop.

"Don't be stupid, I said. I care about what happens to you, please take care of yourself, I said. Did all that just feed your ego and then go out your ears?" she finally looked at him, but it wasn't a friendly look. The words pissed and dagger-filled glare about summed it up.

"Is that what you're upset about, babe?" he laughed. "Come on."

"You come on. Does drunkenly walking in the middle of the street 45 minutes away from your intended destination sound like you were trying not to be stupid?" she shook her head.

"Compared to other shit I was going to do, yeah that was actually smart." He answered. Her stony disposition caused him to reach out and take her arm in an attempt to get her full attention. She quickly looked down at his hand clenched around her arm and the way she tensed up caused the blonde to instantly reconsider his action. He didn't move his hand, however, because now she seemed to be acutely aware of him and was no longer making an attempt to ignore him.

"Look, I do listen to you, and I do care about what you think of me. I don't know why you're taking this so personally, but if it'd make you feel better I did almost drive home, and before that some other stuff I'm sure you'd rather not hear about, but I stopped because your words did register." He told her. "You know, you are really sensitive about what I do and what I take from you for someone who acts like they don't give a shit about me."

"If getting drunk and nearly run over is your idea of a smart option, I don't want to know what you normally do." Tara answered in disgust. "Now get your hung over hands off of me before I hurt you."

"So, you're seriously starting to grow a bit fond of me, aren't you?" Tristan grinned, keeping one hand around her wrist and one stroking her cheek. In a swift moment, she had her hand tightly around the hand he had been stroking her with and swung it behind him. She used her free arm to elbow and push him out of her way and neatly fixed the sleeve his hold had rumpled.

"I said. Don't. Touch. Me." Tara clenched her jaw and walked off.

"Really touché." Tristan muttered, rubbing his arm. He easily caught up with her and pointed out, "I don't get it, you weren't mad at me when you dropped me off last night."

"I was worried about you then, now I realize you're not worth it." Tara sighed. "Maybe it would have done you more good if I had let some car hit you. You need a wake-up call."

Tristan's eyes instantly clouded over. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." She evenly, though a bit defensively, replied. "You've never had to deal with consequences, never had to see how stupid these things you're doing are. You don't live in the real world, the world where you can have too much to drink and the alcohol burns up your liver, or you decide to drive, or you get run over."

"You don't know anything about me, Tara. So stop assuming." His voice was quiet but it was simmering with anger.

"I know that you have a reputation to uphold. That you're pretty much the signature party boy. You're wild. Oh, look, aren't I just fainting with adoration?" she raised her eyebrows.

"I don't need a wake-up call, and I don't need some girl who barely knows me making snap judgments on me, pretending that they know anything at all about me." He clenched his teeth.

"You are such a tortured rich kid, aren't you?" her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"And you're just the girl who's never had a break, right? Shunned by all, poor little Tara always loses out to those richer than her." Tristan mocked.

"Tristan. I keep thinking there's something else, there's something that's making you turn to beer, something that you're trying to get away from. That this is just the cover. I want to know. I tried to help." She ran a hand through her hair uncertainly.

"Well, you were wrong. There are no deeper layers, this is who I am. Judge me, brush me off, I guess I'm just a shallow party boy." He crossly stated.

"I guess you are." She said softly.

"Maybe I just like the taste of beer, maybe it's just my nature to go to parties. Just because I don't measure up to who you are, doesn't mean this isn't real. Stop looking for the real me, you're staring at him." Tristan bit out.

"Then the real you is a typecasted cliché." Tara retorted, equal parts angry honesty and gentleness in her tone. "I guess I just didn't want to think of you like that. Glad to see I was wrong. You really are just like the rest of them." And this time when she walked off, he didn't follow her. Because in his mind, he thought, _so are you._

When English came, it wasn't a work class so Tristan didn't have to speak to Tara at all for the rest of the morning, choosing to spin his words on the other members of the class. He saw her in the halls but the two never made eye contact. Him with his group of four or more girls and a handful of guys, her gripping her latest book with her headphones over her ears, the two walked by each other as if they didn't know each other.

When one of Tristan's friends let out a demeaning catcall as the girl bent down to pick up her books that she had dropped, he didn't say a word. He watched as Paris and Madeline kicked one of her books further away and smirked. He kept his mouth shut when Paris was being Paris, apparently Tara had been catching up in class and Paris was starting to feel threatened. And Tara didn't look over at Tristan with a plea in her eyes as he expected her to. Instead, she cast the group a standard withering look, picked up her books, snarled subtly at Paris, and squirmed around the group.

Which made it that much more surprising when Tristan had gathered his books in his bag after basketball practice had ended a good twenty minutes before, and was beginning to drive out of the parking lot, to find Tara sprinting towards him, a look of urgent panic in her eyes. She practically skidded in front of the car, forcing him to stop.

"Tristan!" so much relief was seeped into that one word… "Please, please- can you give me a ride?" She was out of breath. Tristan frowned but slightly inclined his head and reached over and opened the door. She slid in and quickly fastened her seat belt as she tried to catch her breath. "I know we're fighting and you're mad at me and I'm mad at you but could you please just drive?" Again Tristan nodded and moved out of the lot, not failing to notice how the girl was trying to bend over in an attempt to remain unseen from something outside. He let it drop.

"…So, home?" he asked.

"No, I can't." she hastily shook her head. "Could you drop me off at my friend's house? It's in your town. 77 Hilcrest road." The look of panic was subsiding, but every now and then she would look over her shoulder.

"Tara, is something…?" Tristan faltered.

"Could I please borrow your cell phone?" she questioned suddenly.

"Okay." He handed it to her.

"It's me. It's about…yeah… Right now. Be careful… I just wanted to make sure you knew…. No I'm fine, I'm getting a ride from a friend… I'm going to be at Matt and Dylan's'… Okay…. I will. Bye." Her voice was carefully low and he noticed how her hands shook just a bit when she gave his phone back.

The first part of the ride was in silence, Tristan deciding that this was not the time to be angry at her, but after ten minutes, he cautiously asked, "Uh, would you mind if-?" he gestured to his CD player. She quickly shook her head and motioned for him to turn it on.

A blast of rock exploded onto the stereo, and the blonde quickly turned it down, his mouth quirking a bit, "Sorry."

"No, that's fine. I like this." She quietly murmured, staring out her window.

"Look, I don't want to be a nosy bastard and pry… but what the hell happened?" he asked.

"Nothing." She smiled. "Just forgot that I had to get to my friends house today and totally missed my bus. They would have killed me if I had been late." At the look on his face, Tara's smile faltered just a bit.

"So, are we friends or what?" he asked.

"Or what." She shrugged.

"I'm not just a typecast." He cleared his throat.

"I know." She said.

"I'm not just a cliché." He continued.

"I never believed you were." She answered.

"And you're not just some girl who hates all the rich kids." He said.

"No, I'm not." She looked down but whipped her head up again when she realized she had just shown a sign of awkwardness.

"And that doesn't matter, does it? You still won't let down your barriers and let me in to see who you are." Tristan said.

"And neither will you." She met his eyes finally.

"I can't tell you all my secrets." He said quietly.

"I'm not asking you to." Tara simply answered.

"Hell, what secrets are there to tell?" Tristan let out a shrug.

"Nothing you could possibly tell a girl you barely know." She smiled.

"It isn't like that." He said.

"Thanks for doing this." The girl said. " I get that we're fighting. That you don't like me and we're at each other's throats. So it means a lot to me that you did this for me and didn't leave me there alone at the school. Um, because my friend's would've been so mad."

He smiled and laughed just a bit at that but again let it drop. The smile still half-lingering, he said, "This wasn't a problem. Don't hesitate to ask me for help, because despite what you think of me, I'd never be the guy who would leave you at the school. And you must not know very many decent people out there if this means a lot to you and if you're surprised by this."

"Bye, Dugrey." She said, the car pulling up to the curb. "And this doesn't mean we're friends."

"No, of course not." He laughed. That was feeble and untrue, and they both knew it, but they both went with it. "I'll see you in class."

As she got out and was closing the door, Tristan smiled genuinely, "And Tara? I always liked you."


	10. Chapter 10

Tristan had his grin readily placed on his face the next afternoon when he sauntered to Tara's locker. When she saw him, her eyes showed a flick of hesitancy but it was quickly shadowed by indifference.

"How are we doing today?" he asked, smoothly lifting her books out of her hands and tucking them under his arm.

"Fine. They weren't really upset." She cleared her throat and questioningly looked at her books.

He nodded. "Great."

"Uh, what are you-?" but before she could finish her question, Tristan placed his free hand carelessly around her shoulder and started steering her forward.

"I'm walking you to class, of course." He grinned.

"I'm capable of doing that myself, thanks." Tara raised her eyebrows.

"Aw too late, we're here already." He gave a half shrug, opened the door for her, slid the books back into her arms, and blew her a kiss. "I'll see you later." He laughed at her flabbergasted expression and couldn't help but lean over and ruffle her hair. "You're adorable when you're confused."

"Excuse me?" she gaped.

Tristan didn't answer her as he strode back to his friends and headed to class himself with a twinkle in his eyes.

As the dismissal bell rang that day, Tristan cheerfully leaned against Tara's locker after getting his backpack. She still looked a bit on the confused side.

"Hey there, my sexy brunette." He flashed her a brilliant smile.

Which obviously didn't work at all on her. "What's with you today?" she said suspiciously.

"Do you always get so paranoid when someone's nice to you?" he asked.

"Yes." She answered unabashed. "Because they almost always have a hidden agenda."

"Awww. Tara, girl, you really need to get out more." He shook his head. "Wanna go out with me tonight?"

"No." Tara blurted automatically. After a second though, she slowly added, "I mean, I'd just better not."

"If it's because of the company you'll be in, I swear I'll be on my best behaviour." He joked.

"It's not you, you twit." She rolled her eyes.

"Are you sure?" he countered. "I know I'm not on your favourite list of people, but I think it'd be fun. And I want to change your opinion of me."

_You already have._ "Listen, I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" she shook her head.

"Or you could see me tonight." Tristan smirked.

"You've been trying to get me to go out with you for almost a month. What makes you think I'm going to change my mind tonight?" she said logically, a slightly apologetic smile lingering on her lips. "I'll see you later."

The blonde's smirk widened as he walked her retreating back. "Sure you will. Three hours later, to be exact." He smiled under his breath and grabbed his cell phone, ready to get in his possession the thing that he knew she would not be able to say no to.

Ah yes, being rich and the heir to a very influential family had its benefits.

It was now six o'clock and Tristan was in his car, earpiece in place, a certain girl's number dialling. A self-satisfied smile shining off his face, he drummed his fingers lightly against the steering wheel as he waited for her to pick up.

"Hello?" ah, there was his damsel now.

"Hi," he smiled, wondering if she would recognize the voice.

"I-you, what do-" she spluttered uncertainly on her end before settling on, "Why are you calling?"

"Because I'm the wonderful Tristan Dugrey and I'm going to take you out tonight." He answered.

"Oh." Her voice was distracted. "Tristan." And was that relief? "I told you no."

"Do you want to see a movie with me tonight?" he asked as if he hadn't heard her.

"I don't think that would be a good idea." She let out, strained patience in her voice.

Oh it was so much fun annoying her. "No?" he said innocently.

"No." Tara stated very firmly.

"'Cause, well, I sort of have these two tickets to this movie already purchased and I thought you'd might like to see this." He said, happily preparing to spill the news that he was sure would get a more interested response than what he had been getting.

"Then it's a shame you had to waste your cash." He'd been expecting that response.

"Yeah, and it would be a waste. I don't much like what's-his-name Bloom, but they're having that thing in Hartford tonight, and I think he'll be there to promote his film. Too bad I don't know any other-"

But Tristan wasn't able to finish that sentence because the words had finally sunk into Tara's ears and she let out a very loud squeak. "Are you, you couldn't possibly be- the premiere?" she tentatively breathed.

"That's the one. But I shouldn't have asked. I mean, you don't want to go with me. A shame. I'm so close too. Are you sure you don't want to come?" he was nothing short of gleeful now.

A strangled yelp escaped Tara's end of the line and he heard something drop. A scrape of a chair… And then Tara's high pitched, "You've got to be kidding-"

"Do you want to come?" he said again.

If he hadn't known any better, he'd say that the noise that pierced through the air next was a squeal. With a smirk, Tristan heard the phone click and knew that was a yes.

Fifteen minutes later, Tristan pulled up to her driveway and rang her doorbell. He heard another crash before the door was flung open.

"For any future reference, this is not me giving in or being bribed, or losing any of my respect and I still think you're a caveman." Tara said coolly.

"Dually noted." Tristan nodded with a smirk.

"…Okay, great, let's go!" she beamed, her composure broken.

Tristan helped her to the car, shaking his head. "You are a big fan, aren't you?"

"There is very little I wouldn't do to meet Orlando Bloom," she exclaimed, "Including an evening with the spawn of Satan himself." She couldn't help but add that in, but she was grinning nonetheless. "How'd you know I was a fan of his, anyways?"

"Please. Like I wouldn't notice that calendar you have of him in your locker." He laughed. She sheepishly shrugged and started drumming her fingers randomly on the dashboard.

"I don't think I've ever seen you so excited." He smiled.

"That's because I've never been." She answered happily. When he finally pulled into a parking lot, she was practically jumping in her seat.

Through the sidelines they saw a few stars come down, but the girl beside him ignored them, staring intently at the curb. And then…

"OH MY GOD!" she shrieked. With a roughness he didn't think she had, Tara yanked on Tristan's arm and jabbed madly. "There he is! There he is!" Tristan winced as he soon saw that she wasn't the only one who realized that fact. A wave of screams overtook the atmosphere and Tristan was immensely thankful that he had the presence of mind to bring earplugs.

And then the handsome British actor started walking closer to Tristan and Tara's perch and all hell broke loose. Tara had brought a poster and a book about him to be autographed and he watched in amusement as she squirmed around other fans and waved frantically at Bloom. Tristan watched as the curly heartthrob strode over directly in front of Tara and bent down.

"Hello," he smiled. "How are you tonight?"

"Great!" Tara enthusiastically responded, "I love your work, you're an amazing actor, could you sign this please?" He smiled and signed the poster and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, thanked her for her words, and efficiently moved on through the crowd. He locked gazes with Tristan, who gave him a sympathetic look, and shook his hand.

"Holy crap man, you'd think Jesus himself was here," Tristan couldn't help but laugh. Bloom grinned and shook his head before a tide of girls pulled on his sleeve to get his attention.

"Hope you like the movie," he called over his shoulder to Tristan before greeting other eager fans.

Tara skipped back over and giddily started recounting exactly what happened, despite the fact that he had been standing less than a foot away.

"Tara," Tristan finally stopped her, "I think you're forgetting something." She was craning her neck, trying to see if Bloom was coming back. Tristan lightly pulled her in the other direction, to which he got his arm batted away.

"We can't leave yet, he might come back!" she protested desperately.

"Tara." He gave her an exasperated look and brandished his tickets. "The night's barely begun, we're not one of the people here to just stand at the side and leave before the movie starts. We have tickets. To the premiere. We're going inside. And hey, let's go get him to sign that book of yours too." Her eyes lit up and she grabbed his hand and sprinted off to the doors.

It was a hectic but very funny night. Tara did see Orlando again and get that second autograph, not to mention a hug and another kiss on the cheek. Tristan got a camera thrown at him so he took some photos. And right before Orlando was going to walk off again, Tara blurted that she thought he was 'Damn fucking orgasmic looking'. It A) caused her to turn beat red and made her highly embarrassed B) Caused Tristan to almost kill himself laughing C) invoked a surprised guffaw from Orlando Bloom himself, as well as a 'Thanks, I think you're quite good looking yourself, love.' And he rubbed her back, and enveloped her in another half hug because she was looking so mortified ('Don't worry, that was a very tame comment next to a few of the things other women have screamed at me.').

The movie wasn't bad, and it was the first time he had gotten to see Tara with all her guards down. She was happy, loose, and relaxed. The movie didn't start for another half hour since they got inside, and then the director had a little speech before the screening, and even after the movie ended there were refreshments and an after party to sneak into. The night ended quite late in the evening and Tristan drove the girl home and walked her to her door.

"One night with me wasn't that bad, was it?" he teased.

"Tristan, thank you." She swallowed.

"Don't worry about it," he waved off and began to turn around.

"No, seriously, thank you so much. This was a dream of mine. I've been dying to meet him for years." She held onto his elbow to stop him. "It was a lot of fun and I really appreciate it."

"Tara, it was my pleasure, all right? Don't go all sentimental or I might have to get uncomfortable and flee." He joked. "I wanted to do it. I'm glad you had fun."

"How in the hell did you get those tickets?" she wanted to know.

"I have my sources." He shrugged.

"In case you were wondering, you're not on my People who Must Die list anymore." She smiled. To his undying surprise, Tara then proceeded to lean in and hug him. It was hesitant but she actually initiated physical contact with him: a first. When she pulled back, she had gathered a bit of restraint again and half-heartedly said, "Okay. You saw me at my most girly, most pathetic, most annoying. Tonight I acted like someone I normally mock and roll my eyes at, and so if you tell anyone about this I might have to hurt you. And we must never, ever mention the fact that I squealed again."

"As you wish, my lady." He chuckled.

"Good night Tristan." She smiled and turned back to her door.

"Night." He breathed and slowly leaned in and brushed back her hair. He gave her a slow lingering kiss on the cheek and pulled back.

"Wow, you didn't even aim for my lips. Someone's growing up." She said sarcastically.

"Are you disappointed?" he raised one eyebrow and leaned in again, stopping just a hair from her face.

"This night was perfect, let's not ruin it." She wryly answered. She turned around and went through her door, leaving him to shake his head with a grin.

* * *

A/N: Yes, chapter 10 is up, and I realize how far removed it seems and how it feels a bit random and like it has little to do with the plot... but it's going somewhere. It may have been a bit superficial, and I'm hoping Tara wasn't completely OOC but hey, I wanted to show her in a different, uninhibited light. Yes, you'll find out what's going on with her and the other man fairly soon ;-) 


	11. Chapter 11

Feeling extremely confident and rather peppy that morning, Tristan bumped into Tara on the way to English class.

"Hey!" he grinned, touching her shoulder to get her attention.

"Hi." She said dismissively, turning to find the door.

"How are you?" he said conversationally.

"Fine." One word replies. Geez someone was cold this morning. Tristan didn't fail to notice the stiff way she held herself that day and raised his eyebrows.

"What's got your feathers all ruffled?" he snorted.

"I'm fine." She snapped with a finality that clearly showed otherwise.

"I thought we had a good time?" Tristan stated in amusement.

"We didn't." Tara was gritting her teeth.

"You seemed pretty happy last night." He pointed out. "What's going on, it was like your dream come true and now you're just going to act like nothing happened, like it wasn't a big deal?"

"It was a mistake. I shouldn't have gone." She breathed deeply and stubbornly kept her tone indifferent.

"The hell it was. What the hell happened between last night and this morning to make you like this?" Tristan frowned.

"Just leave me alone, Dugrey." She bit out and pushed past him into the English room. So they were back on using his surname, were they?

"You're more moody than anyone else I've met." Tristan rolled his eyes.

"Than give up." Her tone was quiet.

"I don't understand you, do you know that?" he said. But the girl only sat down, no reply or even a glance was spared for him. Tristan shook his head.

"Orlando Bloom. Your idol? The one you squealed for?" He was a bit in disbelief.

"I don't squeal, Dugrey." She stared straight ahead and he didn't get a chance to reply before the teacher strode in. He watched her that class, but as the eighty minutes past without her so much as glancing at him from the corners of her eyes, he finally dropped it. If she wanted to be difficult, fine. He had enough to think about without this person walking in and mucking up his already dizzy life.

She watched as he gave one final headshake. She saw him stand up with his books tucked under his arm, as he glanced at her just one last time before clenching his teeth and walking out without a word to her. She knew that he was a bit angry now. With good reason, she supposed. But there had been a part that desperately wanted him to stay by her, refusing to leave until she explained what was wrong. She wanted someone, somewhere, to hold her still until her pain was out.

Because there was no one who knew it all. No one to help her, to care. She tried so hard to keep it that way but at the same time she wished so deeply for it to be different. She determinedly went through the day, got through it. A few well-chosen barbs got people off her back, even the notorious Paris.

And when the final bell rang, she saw Tristan Dugrey at his locker, laughing care freely with his friends as he so often did. They locked eyes for a moment, his miffed but still questioning her silently. She just looked away. She shouldn't have indulged him or herself.

She walked outside onto the path that few walked on and silently cried. A crack of thunder resounded heavily and a minute later, she was getting soaked through. The raindrops fell on her face and slowly washed away the carefully constructed façade… her makeup fell away revealing a very blue bruise.

* * *

Tristan chuckled with his friends, shut his locker, heaved an exasperated sigh in Tara's direction, and walked to his car. His face completely changed expressions once he closed the car door and he buckled himself in, ready for another trip to the deserted park. It was, once again, Wednesday. But as he began to drive out of the lot, he decided he didn't want to wait until he reached the park and instead he pulled out a half empty bottle of liquor from inside the glove compartment. Chugging a bit of it silently, his lips quirked up from the buzz. One of these days he seriously had to stop caring about his parents. Too bad he couldn't. Last night, his mom had been sprawled on the couch, drunk, high, or otherwise and had pleasantly asked if Tristan had a good time with Miranda. Mother, dear, he had broken off with Miranda almost three years ago. He hadn't the heart to tell her that, and had just nodded, a smile plastered on his face as he jogged up to his room. She was off her rocker but as much as he hated his parents with everything in him, he loved them more than words could describe.

Tristan had been one of those desperate, clingy, attention-seeking kids. Since he grew up being raised by various nannies, he had wanted his parents' praise more than much else. He was eight when he gave up and realized that mommy and daddy would rather spend time with their business associates and some raw cash than with their only son. He was eight when he stopped trying to be perfect at everything, when he stopped asking his parents everyday if they would drive him to school instead of the chauffer.

He had been twelve when he realized that nothing mattered, that money was the only thing anyone cared about. At that age, he stopped trying in his studies. He had worked so hard before, trying to prove his worth, living up to his name and showing everyone that he did belong in the private school. But he stopped, let it go, realizing with horror that they still passed him when he did nothing, still got a C when he spent two minutes writing a bunch of trash on a paper he did no research on. His marks slipped and the bright young boy became the slacker he was in the present. At thirteen he lost his virginity to a girl three years older than him (hell he looked three years older than he was). He first tried alcohol that year, first experimented with cigarettes, first told his father to go to hell. At fourteen he tried weed, first had a threesome, first had sex at school, and first slept with the nanny. And by fifteen there were precious few girls who hadn't slept with him, didn't want to, and didn't know about his heartbreaker status. He was the most experienced guy in the school, beating out the older guys, and he was aware of the fact that he took away a lot of girls' innocence. He made an ideal first time, knowing exactly what to do. And he was a bit gentler with those girls, he actually went out with them for a decent time, having enough heart to realize what a big deal it was and how key it was not to crush them.

"TRISTAN!" a harassed voice screeched. Tristan had just been driving to a light and it took him a moment to locate the source of the yell. Finally, his eyes landed on Tara, standing half-obscured by trees on the sidewalk.

"Yes?" he called out.

"You're fucking drinking and driving?" she yelled. "You're going to kill someone you stupid reckless idiot!"

"Just cross the damn road." He sighed. But she marched over to his car, stuck her arm through his opened window and wrenched the bottle away from him. She then proceeded to pour out the remaining liquid before thrusting it back at him.

"You've better not be intoxicated now, or it's your ass that's on the line." She growled, turning around and stomping off.

"You've got such a stick up your ass, I don't know why I even try with you." He said.

"Neither do I." She snarled.

"Hey, what's that on your face?" he frowned.

"Go screw a tree you spoiled jackass." Tara hissed and gave him the finger.

"It's more than you'll be getting, princess." He mocked as he skidded by, chucking a stack of photos at her as he drove by.

A glance at them told her that they were the photos from the previous night. And though things went horribly wrong after he dropped her off last night, the pictures of her beaming face and his amused one made her gut twist uncomfortably. It was too bad that she didn't know that he was glancing back at her through his rear-view mirror, both of them fuming over things the other couldn't possibly know about.

In a spurt of shocking instinctive impulse, the girl chose to follow him for the first time. She could see him pull into a parking lot in the distance and sprinted towards it before she could rethink it. By the time she reached the lot, the car was empty. Tara quietly scanned the area before her eyes landed on Dugrey's figure, slumping against a tree.

"Are you all right?" she blurted.

"You followed me?" his expression was one of rage mixed with incredulity.

She took a few steps closer to him so that she was standing over him. "I'm sorry about today. It wasn't your fault and from your point of view I can see that I may have treated you undeservingly harsh."

"From my point of view? How could you possibly see it any other way?" Tristan exclaimed. "I do one nice thing for you and you suddenly react colder than ever before. And now you're back to being nice? What the hell are you doing? Stop screwing with my mind."

"I'm not trying to!" she desperately said, stomping her foot for emphasis.

"I don't get you, and I've been trying to understand, but you've got to give me something to work with here." He exhaled.

"I don't know if I can do that." She answered.

"Then do me a favour and leave. I'm busy right now, not that you'd care." Tristan barked out. He let out a rough laugh. "The one time you chase me down is the one time you don't have something to say to me?"

"What are you busy doing?" she relented.

"Nothing you'd care to know about," he stubbornly replied.

"I'm trying, okay?" she said. "Doesn't the fact that I chased you count for anything?"

"You've got a split personality, seriously." He grinned hollowly.

"And so do you. Where's the light, can't-piss-me-off guy I have to see everyday?" she raised her eyebrows.

"Where's the ice queen I see?" he retorted. "This may surprise you, but I'm not feeling all that light right now, so go away."

"You're so difficult!" Tara grumbled.

"You're the one who's like a wall." Tristan said.

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I can't just let you in?" she bellowed.

"All I wanted was to get to know you. But you won't even let me in as a friend, will you?" he scowled.

"I can't." Tara shook her head.

"And there in lies the problem." He laughed.

"It isn't as if you've been confiding in me either, friend." She glared.

"You want me to confide in you?" he chuckled.

"I invited you to for a reason, " she sighed. "Look, maybe this will shock you but I don't believe that you have a picture perfect life as everyone else in the stupid school seems to think, and I'd like to know what you're hiding behind."

"Why do I have to be hiding?" he set his jaw.

"Because you, Tristan Dugrey, are not any where near as shallow and one dimensional as you make out to be and if you look so completely flat and stereotypical, than there's got to be something under the surface that you feel you've got to cover up." She said levelly. "But as it is, we all have problems and one of mine is that I can't spend the time with you outside of school, I just can't. I want to get to know you, but you've got to know that there's a reason I'm pushing you away. I didn't want to lead you on, which is why I might have been harsh earlier. But I'm grateful for last night, and for the fact that you've put up with this game for so long."

"The project will be over next Monday, Mary." He said.

"And I'm not in love with you." She couldn't help give a wry smile. "Can your conceited ego sit well on that?"

"Tara, we still have over one week." He dimpled. "Don't underestimate it." And he impulsively pulled her to him and passionately pressed his lips powerfully against hers. Surprising neither of them, Tara pulled away.

"You embody everything I can't understand because you won't let people in." he softly muttered.

"You won't let me in either." She protested.

"Somebody's got to take the first step." He lifted up one shoulder casually and with one final half-smile he stuffed the bottle of liquor that she hadn't seen him carrying back into the trunk and walked off without looking back.


	12. Chapter 12

He knew that she was watching him go. He could feel her eyes on his back, could almost sense her opening and closing her mouth like a goldfish as she tried to say something to stop him but couldn't. Sometimes Tristan wondered why he was going through all this. Sure, he had done something similar with Rory, but Rory hadn't lashed out at him nearly as vehemently as Tara did. On the first day of school, when he had first seen the ice goddess that was Tara, his main thought was that she was a prime piece of ass. She had an ethereal beauty, like something from a fairy tale. She had such good posture, perfectly manicured nails, and actually hadn't tried to manipulate the Chilton uniform to expose more skin, as most girls did. In short, she was a complete babe. Of course, anyone with eyes could see this and it wasn't long before it was very obvious that along with her amazing looks came a stick-up-her-ass personality. Tristan had dated bitches before, it hadn't really mattered much as long as they were hot. In the beginning, it was the thrill of the chase, the refreshment of a true challenge that had intrigued him. He wanted the conquest just because she was so resistant upon giving it to him. And then he wanted the benefit of being given trust from someone who was so untrustworthy. It was going around the school that she was a man-hater, or a possible lesbian. Mainly people just sneered that she was a complete snob who thought she was too good for everyone else. As if the Chiltonites didn't have superiority complexes.

When Tara, to his undying surprise (cough) not, didn't say something to stop him Tristan shook his head and slid back into his car. He tried to think of another place he could go. This was his park and he was a bit pissed that Tara had taken that from him. He didn't even care that she had tried to apologize. He was sick of the mind games. And now he had to sulk soberly, since she had grabbed his last bottle. Tristan angrily put his seat belt on and started the engine. He'd figure out someplace to crash.

As he pulled out, he saw Tara looking at him from a distance. With a heavy sigh, he rolled down his window. "Are you going to say something or would you prefer to stare at me in silence?" She only shook her head. "Look, do you need a ride or something?" She shook her head again. "Suit yourself, then." He just barely stopped himself from calling her a bitch. He sped up the car and drove off, window rolled all the way down and stereo blasting.

The next morning, the annoying ring of his cell phone woke Tristan up. He seriously needed to change that ring tone. He forced his eyes open and blinked a few times, realizing that he was lying on a patch of grass. He had found a deserted piece of nature and plopped down. He was surprised that he hadn't crawled back to his car; the chill of the night normally drove him away from staying outside all night, much as he loved the outdoors. The cell trilled again. With a mumbled curse, Tristan fumbled in his pocket and found his cell.

"It took you long enough! I called you like a dozen times in the last two hours! Where the fuck were you? They're going to have your house called soon. You have to get here, now." Oh shut up, stupid little ass kissing twit.

"I'm not coming in. Thanks for the warning, but let it go." Tristan sighed. It felt way too early to be awake.

"But-"

"Bye." He hung up on her. His trusty fake ID, coupled with his good looks and the female bar tender, led to Tristan having a little dose of alcohol after all. He hadn't drunk enough to be hung over but at the moment the blonde just didn't feel much like going to school. Besides, his dad had left last night for a business trip so it wasn't like he'd get in shit for missing one day of school.

Tristan didn't move from the ground for a good five minutes before he finally dragged himself to his car, and then back to the house.

There was no one home but the hired help. Tristan found this to be a relief. He trotted to the kitchen and filled a jug of cold water for himself and grabbed a glass. The chef smiled at him. Tristan knew he wouldn't tattle to his parents. None of the staff would. He liked to think that he had a decent, polite acquaintance with the staff. At least, he saw them as human beings, not lower life forms, as his parents seemed to.

He was still feeling sluggish. Not to mention damp and with a dull ache all over for sleeping in an uneven and wet area outside. He trudged upstairs. Then upstairs again. He used to love having the attic as his room but now he just despised the miniature hike every time he felt like collapsing. Well, there were two guestrooms in the main floor; he normally crashed in one of them if he was feeling particularly hazy and actually bothered to come home. The second level had a few guestrooms too, and one of them had once been his room- that is until he couldn't stand sleeping on the same floor as his parents. The attic was a large, but not huge, room. It gave him enough space without feeling as hollow as some of the other parts of the house (the master bed room, for example). His room had deep blue walls, most of the room was hardwood but there was a portion that had soft grey carpeting. The walls were mostly bare, with the exception of a Jessica Alba (in revealing spandex) poster on the wall opposite his metal double bed. He liked his space, but too much of it frankly scared him. His bed was against a wall, a window looming right beside. He liked having the night sky to look at so closely. On the other side of his bed was a tiny night stand- holding mainly his clock, lamp, and cell. There was an enormous bookshelf covering half of a wall, and a couch beside it. Under his Jessica Alba poster there was an expensive stereo, which he had on almost every time he spent time in his room. He had a closet full of clothes, his mother occasionally sticking in a few new outfits, each more preppy, posh, and pathetic than the last. Then there was his box of salvation- his mini-fridge filled with all types of booze, water, pop, and some junk food. His room was, for the most part, bare. He liked his room the most out of all the rooms in his house but he wasn't in the house all that much to begin with.

There was a small bathroom up by his room, just big enough to fit a bathtub, shower, toilet, and sink. On the sink rested his bright green toothbrush, a brush, and razor. By the shower were his shampoo, conditioner, and a massive towel. He didn't wear cologne, confident that nothing could smell better than he did, anyways.

Under his bed there was a huge white poster, half filled with photos of girls. The first girl he slept with decided to take a photo of the two of them- just so he would never forget her. She had signed her name and date under it. Funny, how it was her who had decided not to answer his calls after that night. Anyways, somehow it became a sort of ritual. He had every girl he'd ever slept with on that poster. It hadn't really been about keeping track of his conquests, at the time he did want to have some sort of keepsake from those nights of fun. Something to remind him that it was real. Of course, it was a bit of a stupid idea but after he realized this, there were already three girls on and he figured he might as well keep it going. It had once been a goal of his to have five hundred girls up on the board by graduation. Tristan had been a bit scummy, he was fully aware of that. The part that actually guilted him was the fact that as he glanced briefly over the faces, there were a fair few he wouldn't remember the names of if not for the signatures underneath the photos.

Ah well. Such was the life of a player. And the result of sleeping around with a dizzying frequency while slightly intoxicated. He didn't break hearts intentionally, but he wasn't cut out for a true relationship with a person actually relying on him. He would only disappoint them. The way he saw it, it was better to disappoint them early on, before they really got involved, before it would really hurt.

Tristan fell onto his bed and slowly fell asleep thinking about all the things he had managed to screw up in his relatively short existence. It wasn't as if his parents were actually abusive… his dad was harsh but would never actually physically beat him. His mom may have been emotionally distant, but she was harmless. Except for the negligence and a bit of emotional pain, they didn't screw up his life for him- he was doing it himself. He lapsed into a dream of when he was ten. His father was yelling at him, his mother was looking impatient behind him. He was getting lectured on giving one of his many useless gold pins to one of his friends. Apparently, if his friend couldn't afford to get one for himself, then Tristan should not have been spending time with such filth. Even though it was Tristan's pin, he was told it wasn't his to give to whatever bum he saw. Being drilled about being generous with a pal, Tristan hadn't understood. Nice to see how his morals were shaped, huh?

The dream shifted, Tristan was in a field. An angel was calling to him. She looked strangely familiar. "I'm having a dream about angels, now?" the blonde's dream self chuckled.

"You want me, why don't you get me?" the angel was laughing at him.

"What?" he asked.

She shook her head. "The key is to come after me, idiot." This dream was getting stranger by the moment. The angel disappeared and Tristan woke up. The doorbell was ringing.

Tristan considered letting one of the maids get it, but thought what the heck, and got up. He had just reached the ground floor when he saw that he had been too late. One of the maids was walking away, and Tara was looking around nervously.

She finally spotted him and quickly blurted, "A maid let me in. I didn't just, you know, barge in."

"What are you doing here?" he frowned.

"Did you just get up?" she exclaimed, taking in his hair sticking up in random places and his rumpled Chilton uniform, which he still hadn't taken off. He ran a hand through the messy hair, knowing that it wouldn't do much good. She shook her head. "Anyways. I was just wondering why you weren't at school."

"Maybe I'm horribly sick." He rolled his eyes. "I just didn't feel like going."

"Oh."

"Is there anything else?" He wasn't in the mood for this.

"I-" she visibly hesitated. "You've been more off than usual, and I… was concerned. About you."

"That's sweet, precious. But nothing's changed. Maybe you've just slid your head slightly out of your ass, and finally noticed." He was finished with this conversation. Without warning, he turned around and started back up the stairs.

"Why can't you just let me help you?" Tara snapped, her voice rising. "I come all the way over here and actually admit that, yeah, I was worried about you, and I don't want to see you all pissy and reclusive. So stop being such a brat! The whole first step stuff you were rambling about? I'm trying. Olive branch is extended."

"The first step crap was a bunch of trash. And you can take that olive branch and stick it elsewhere. I was drunk, you saw me with the bottle. I'm sure you can show yourself out." His words were biting but he didn't care.

"You're impossible." She yelled.

"And you're a frigid bitch." He called back without even looking back. A moment later, a very loud slam resounded all around the house. Tristan smirked and kept walking.

Of course, that smirk was pretty much completely wiped off after two other girls came to visit him that day. They had giggled and asked if he had an interesting night, and had clucked that they _so _understood. He couldn't forget how annoying some of the Chilton girls could be. On further thought, Tristan supposed he had been rather harsh to Tara. After all, he had went on a rant about how she didn't care about anyone but herself, and then when she actually showed up out of concern for him, he had blown her off. With a sigh, the blonde drove over to her house.

"Tristan." She was surprised, but quickly masked it with coldness.

"Tara." He smiled. "Okay, so I wasn't being very nice earlier. But maybe I thought that I should be the one making the first step, anyways. I've been making all the other ones. It surprised me that you actually listened to my words. And, obviously since I missed school, I wasn't feeling exactly chipper. Is the olive branch still offered?"

"Every time you show that you are human, after all, you feel the need to cover it completely. I don't even know what I think of you any more. You're an ass. Or maybe you're just really insecure. But I'm sick of getting snapped at for trying to help your undeserving rich-boy self." She bit out.

"Can the undeserving rich-boy come in?" Tristan asked, smile still shining brightly.

"I'm busy." She said.

"Well, you woke me up when you showed up at my place today. We have to deal with life's little interruptions." He was spouting crap, but whatever. "Besides, life is what happens when you're busy making other plans. Start up your life."

"Quoting Lennon, now, are you? And please. Are you trying to say that you're my life?" she snorted. "Besides, when I woke you up at 4 in the afternoon, you swiftly kicked me out. So I think I'm entitled to do the same."

"You can't know if I'm your life if you won't let me into it." Tristan replied, "And it's true that I kicked you out, but I believe that you're a better person than I am. Don't you?" a very cheeky smirk was playing on his lips.

"Oh, Tara, is this one of your friends from Chilton?" a woman Tristan vaguely recognized appeared in the doorframe.

"No." Tara bit out at the same moment Tristan heartily answered, "I'm hoping to be."

"Wait." Her mother was looking over Tristan with a look of recognition. "Aren't you the boy that we drove home after Tara saw you wandering drunkenly in the street?"

Shit, so he did recognize her. Tara was smiling victoriously. "Yeah, he is."

"Um, yes. And I'm really grateful to both of you for helping me home. I'm trying not to drink so much anymore, it's really just a waste of money, I think." Tristan said, trying to sound reverent.

"It is." The elder Ms. Wong nodded. "And, unless I'm mistaken, are you not underage?" Tara was looking quite gleeful.

"I am." He nodded guiltily. "I think it's a bit scary how easily we can get fake Ids in this country." He cleared his throat. "The reason I'm here is because I said some things that were a bit rude to your daughter and I'd like to make up for them."

"Apologies for mistakes in your past don't erase what you've done." Her mother sounded suddenly sharp.

"I know that-" Tristan started.

To his surprise, Tara jumped to his defence. "He didn't really do anything, it's not like that at all." She took in a breath, looking as if she knew she'd be regretting this-but, "Okay. Fine. Come in."

Tristan smiled in amazement but quickly walked into the house.

"What is it you have to say?" she sighed.

"I'm sorry for being rude. I'm just sick of this." He answered honestly.

"'This'?" Tara arched her eyebrow.

"Fighting with you. Playing these mind games. Being led around in circles by you." He expanded, nervously glancing at Tara's mother who had hovered over to the next room but was still giving him an apprehensive gaze through the glass door.

"I haven't been-," she protested.

"Like hell you haven't. You've been pushing me away since we met. Sometimes I think I'm making progress, that maybe you're warming up a bit towards me. And then you turn to ice again. This morning was one of your sunny periods, but I know you'll decide you were making a mistake again. So stop it." Tristan snapped.

"I'm not the only one going in circles. You can be pretty decent sometimes, Dugrey. And then you're suddenly a cocky, shallow bastard, just as I thought when I had first met you. You've been alternating your personas so many times that I'm not sure anymore which is the mask- the shallow jerk, or the decent human being." Tara retorted. She looked down at the floor for a moment before she met his eyes, trying to decide if she should say what was on her mind. "What happened at military school, Dugrey? What happens in your home life? What is there in your life that's driven you to alcohol?"

"I just like the taste." He said angrily, hiding the fact that he was shocked that she just asked him point blank.

"Don't give me that shit! You think I don't notice how your eyes close up when you talk to anyone about your parents? You think I don't see how hard you try to be the person the people at school expects you to be? It's like you sit there and think up ways to act so that no one sees anything you don't want them to see. You're calculating, and probably colder than I am. So don't be such a hypocrite. You've been attached to me since I showed up at Chilton, claiming that you want to get to know me. Well, open up. I'm listening, and you feed me lies." Tara exclaimed.

"Why should I tell you anything?" he hissed.

"What do you want from me, then? I thought you wanted me to want to know more about you." She challenged.

"This is complete bull shit." He muttered, running his hand through his hair roughly. "You always want me to open up. What about yourself?"

"God. You are an immature child. Every time I ask you to tell me something real, you whine for me to do it first. Scared, are you? Or just too stubborn? Fine, you want to know something? I love Chilton. And the main reason I love it is because it got me away from here. Every girl at my old school thinks I'm a stuck-up bitch for leaving, and I've lost most of my friends here because they think I've ditched them for high society." Tara glared.

"My parents never cared about me. They only cared about how I made them look. My father's been hoping for another son every day since he discovered what a screw-up I am, and if he had anyone else, just one other child, I know I'd get nothing out of his will." He glared right back.

"What happens on Wednesdays that make you look so empty at the end of those days?" she asked.

"My mother hooks up with her newest affair. I first saw her cheat when I wasn't even a teen and the only reason I'm not in military school anymore is because she was scared I'd tell my dad of her affairs if she didn't bust me out. When I came back from military school, no one really cared about what happened there- they thought I was still the same guy. Not one person noticed the scars on my body after the so-called instructors there whipped, belted, beat me for being insolent, as they said. I would be raw and bloody, and the funny thing is, I knew that my dad was paying them extra to be harsher to me, to beat out the wild side to me. It was like a prison. And my dad knew what was happening. And he's been threatening to send me back if I don't meet his standards. So yeah, I drink to drown out the voices in my head that tell me mockingly that no one in this damn city gives a shit about me. All my friends don't even know who I am. Girls want to be with me because I'm rich and popular. I don't fail my classes even if I barely show up for class. So forgive me if I don't broadcast this news, all right, Princess? Is that good enough for you, Tara?" Tristan yelled.

"Girls want to be with you because you're hot and charming, Dugrey." Tara said.

The blonde stared at her in surprise for a moment before bursting out in astonished laughter, "You hear all that and that's what you choose to comment on?"

She supplied a small smile and then cautiously wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. "You're annoying, stubborn, rude, lewd, and _I _care about you."

He smiled into her smooth hair. "Do you?"

"Yeah. I like you. For some reason I can't fathom, you make me angry and stupid, and, well, like you said, you unfreeze me. You make me feel something when I'm around you." She admitted. "And besides, you just word vomited all over me, I have to give you something for your co-operation, right? You finally listened to me and did what I asked." She patted his cheek. "Good doggy."

"I just confess my life's troubles that I've been hiding from everyone in my life, and you call me a good doggy?" Tristan said incredulously. He spent about half a minute trying to look angry, and then gave up and grinned, "Who am I kidding? I'd rather be your dog than another Chilton bimbo's man."

Tara laughed, "You really are infatuated over me. Can I ask you why?"

"You judged me for who I am, not who I tried to make you think I am." He answered simply. "And, that seriously surprised me." She shook her head. Tristan had to add, "And, of course, you're sexy and seemed so determined to hate me with such a passion."

"You had to add that, didn't you?" she said reproachfully.

"Couldn't help myself. This conversation had been too dark, altogether. And I think we've realized by now that I deal with nerves by hiding them with lewd jokes." He half shrugged.

"Look, I know I've asked a lot of you tonight, and I'd understand if you didn't want to, but, where are those scars?" she asked him nervously.

"You actually want to know?" he said sceptically She nodded. "Everywhere." He lifted up his shirt an inch to show the beginning of a painful-looking welt starting just above his waist. Tara gingerly touched it, wincing. He took her hand as she dropped it and gave it a squeeze. "Hey. It doesn't hurt anymore. At least not that one, and at least not physically."

She finally didn't say something sarcastic. Looking genuinely sad, she interlocked their fingers on the two hands that weren't currently in contact and murmured sincerely, "I'm sorry. For everything that's happened to you. I'm so sorry."

"Hey, it's not your fault. And I did break into Bowman's dad's safe." He said.

"You're not a screw-up and you sure as hell didn't deserve any of this. All right? You didn't make you parents not love you, and some prank didn't make the delivery of those scars warranted." She let go of one of his hands and ran it through his messy blonde hair. "You were so brave."

"Careful, Tara, if you go on anymore like this I'm going to start worrying if I'm actually talking to the true Tara Elden." He laughed.

"I've always been worried about you. I didn't acknowledge it, but the way you were so off-hand about everything unsettled me, even in the very beginning." She shook off his remark. "I'm not a complete block of ice, you know."

Tristan chuckled. "This was really…good. It felt nice to get that off my chest. But I have to go now, princess."

"Are we good?" she asked.

"I don't think we've ever been better. As long as you don't turn your back on me again, ice queen." Tristan said.

"I won't turn my back on you," Tara stated.

"Until next time, then." He smiled, bending over to kiss her hand.

"Wow, you are a gentleman, aren't you?" she smirked.

"The very best kind." He wriggled his eyebrows.

He turned to go but she said, "Listen, you can call me. If you ever need to talk. Or, if it ever gets to be too much. You, you don't have to turn to alcohol. I know you like the taste, but I'm concerned."

"All right, but I'll hold you to that." Tristan said. Tara nodded and to his amusement, she launched herself onto him again.

"Three hugs in one night? Must be something in the air." He joked.

"Maybe I just like he way you feel." She said. He looked smug. She pulled back. "Or maybe I'm just in love with that cashmere sweater you're wearing."

He laughed and stepped outside. "You know how to make a man feel loved."

"You're my dog, remember?" she said, watching him go.

"Tara's bitch, then. You should get me a leash." He called over his shoulder, slipping back into his car. He smiled as she waved at him from her door, glancing at her through his rear-view mirror as he drove off into the evening.


End file.
